Category: English

1 The young assistant my husband doted on was behind the wheel for the first time. She mowed down my daughter. The wheels crushed Lily’s tiny legs. I screamed, a raw, useless sound against the blood gushing from the holes in her flesh. When Stephen arrived, the driver, Kate, dissolved into a storm of tears and buried herself in his arms. “Stephen, your daughter just ran into the road! She was trying to scam us! This disgusting mother-daughter pair, they must be trying to break us up!” Stephen’s arms tightened around her, a fortress. “I’ve already signed a waiver. No one will touch you.” He murmured, his voice impossibly gentle. “My poor princess, you must be terrified. I’ll take you to Disneyland to clear your head.” And as I knelt on the pavement, begging the paramedics to save my child, my husband was on one knee under the Disneyland fireworks, placing a princess tiara on his assistant’s head. Later, when my daughter was nothing but a handful of ash, he finally remembered he was a father, and he wept, begging her to come back… … Outside the emergency room, I paced, each step a lifetime of anxiety. Suddenly, a courier with a small package found me. “Are you Mrs. Pierce? This is from your husband.” I looked down as a text from Stephen lit up my screen. “Lily needs to be more careful. Running into the street like that… she almost got Kate killed.” “A band-aid should be enough for that scrape. I have to fly out for an international deal. You keep an eye on her.” He added one last line. “Once she’s better, I’ll take you both to Disneyland.” Just then, Kate’s social media feed updated. Under the explosion of fireworks above the Disney castle, she and Stephen were posing for a selfie, matching Mickey Mouse ears perched on their heads. The caption read, “A dream come true at Disney! Thank you to the most handsome CEO in the world!” The man who was always so cold and severe had shed his armor, posing for a nine-photo spread of cloying, intimate selfies with her. His usually indifferent eyes were burning with a heat, a devotion, I hadn’t seen in years. Hours later, the light above the ER door finally went out. I stumbled forward, my legs giving way. The doctor just pulled off his mask and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” A nurse next to him whispered, “That poor little girl… it breaks your heart.” They told me that in her last moments, during a final, fleeting burst of consciousness, she had been murmuring one thing over and over. “Daddy… Lily’s not a bad girl… please don’t leave me and Mommy.” So she knew. My daughter understood all along. She had seen the way Stephen’s voice turned impossibly soft whenever he spoke to Kate, a tone reserved only for her. For us, all that was left was impatient dismissal. She knew that when his phone rang with that special ringtone, he would drop everything and walk out the door, leaving us behind. We had lost his favor, his light. In a flash, the memories I tried so hard to suppress flooded back. Lily, crumpled on the asphalt, whimpering in agony as her life bled out onto the pavement. Stephen, arriving at the scene, his first instinct not to rush to his daughter, but to cradle a terrified Kate in his arms. “Don’t be afraid, Kate. When the police get here, I’ll sign the waiver. I’ll protect you.” Kate was the one who had done this, an unforgivable crime, yet my husband stood ready to be her shield, her champion. My daughter’s eyes were fixed on them, on Stephen holding Kate. The light in those bright, innocent eyes dimmed, flicker by flicker, until only a deep, bottomless despair remained. Now, clutching my daughter’s cold, still body, I knelt before the mortician, my voice a shattered whisper. “Please… please, cover the wounds. Let her go in peace… let her be whole.” On the cold steel table, Lily lay with her eyes closed, looking so peaceful, as if she’d never known a moment of pain. As if, at any second, she would rub her eyes and call out, “Mommy.” The mortician gently straightened the hem of her little dress. “Ma’am,” he said softly, “it’s time for her to go.” The pain in my chest was so immense I couldn’t breathe. I wanted nothing more than to follow her. At that exact moment, Kate posted a new video. “So this is what a suite that costs tens of thousands a night at Disney looks like! Thanks to my CEO for the eye-opening experience!” She gave a sly wink to the camera. “And a little secret for you all… the Ice King might act tough, but his lips are surprisingly soft when you kiss them.” Before the words had even faded, a hand with long, elegant fingers pushed her playfully onto the bed. A man’s deep voice, laced with dangerous charm, rumbled through the speaker. That night, they embraced in the most magical suite in the Magic Kingdom. My daughter was pushed into an incinerator. Her small body, turned to ash, inch by inch. My heart felt as though it had been carved out of my chest. Eight years ago, Stephen and I were struggling to get our company off the ground, crammed into a tiny, rundown apartment. Maybe Lily was our lucky star. The moment she was born, our fortunes turned. Contracts started pouring in like an avalanche. Once we had money, Stephen wanted to give her the world. He was so determined to make her his one and only princess that he underwent a vasectomy, a risky procedure back then. I remember him after the surgery, pale but resolute, holding our baby girl. “Lily,” he’d whispered, “Daddy promises. You will be my only child, forever.” And over the years, how many times had he promised to take her to Disneyland? In the end, he fulfilled that princess dream for another woman, placing a crown on her head before a fairy-tale castle. I buried my face in my hands, hot tears streaming through my fingers. Lily, my sweet girl, Mommy was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I forgot the oldest rule in the book. A man with money is a man with a wandering eye. I sat slumped in a chair at the crematorium, sending text after text to Stephen. [KATE KILLED OUR DAUGHTER. HOW COULD YOU SLEEP WITH HER?!] [Stephen, I will never, ever forgive you!] The screen remained dark. My storm of emotions quieted into a dead, hollow calm. I sent one last message. [Lily is gone… Come say your last goodbye.] A moment later, the phone lit up. Stephen’s reply was a shard of ice in my heart. [Are you insane? Cursing our own daughter just for attention? You disgust me.] I stared at the screen, biting my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. The man who once crawled on his knees up the stone steps of a monastery, praying for a charm to keep our daughter safe—that man was gone forever. If only, Stephen. If only I had never met you… At dawn, I went home to pack up Lily’s things. I sifted through old photos, each smiling face a dull knife twisting in my gut. Suddenly, I heard footsteps and laughter from downstairs. It was Stephen’s voice, crisp and cold, but laced with an unmistakable, uncontainable joy. “Kate, I can’t believe it… you’re pregnant!” His voice trembled. “After my surgery… to have another child… this is a miracle. A gift from heaven.” I heard him gently help her to the couch. “A little prince or a little princess, I don’t care, I’ll love them just the same. I’m going to the study to get the bank books. Don’t you worry. I’ll give you and our baby the best life imaginable.” That was our money. Money that was meant for me and Lily. How dare he use it to raise the child of the homewrecker who destroyed my family? The child of my daughter’s killer! A wave of pure rage propelled me through the door. I saw Kate lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, as if she were the queen of this house. When she saw me, a smug smirk played on her red lips. Her eyes glinted with triumph. She trailed a finger lightly over her flat stomach. “Oh, Lia. I’m so, so sorry,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I guess I’m just young, you know? My body is just… better. Even after Stephen’s little procedure, he hits the jackpot on the first try with me…” Her words were a bomb that detonated inside my skull, shattering what was left of my sanity. I lunged, throwing myself at her without a second thought. I was a mother beast, cornered and broken, my grief erupting in a primal scream. “You monster! Give me back my daughter! You took my life!” In the ensuing struggle, her sharp nails raked across my face, leaving bloody trails. She slapped me, hard and fast, like a sudden downpour. I hadn’t eaten in over a day, and even with all my strength, all I could manage was to tear out a few strands of her hair. Kate threw her head back and shrieked. “Stephen, help me! Save me and the baby!” Her voice was a theatrical wail. “This bitch is trying to make me bald!” Stephen rushed in at the sound of the commotion. Without hesitation, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk. The sight of them in his hand sent a sliver of ice through my veins. What… what was he going to do? The man who once promised to be my shield from the world now stood before me, his face a thundercloud. “I leave for two seconds, and you dare to hurt Kate? What will you do when she moves in? Try to kill her?” The cold glint of the steel flashed before my eyes. I stared, paralyzed by fear, tears streaming down my face. I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. “No, Stephen, you can’t… you can’t do this to me…” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He sneered, his other hand grabbing a fistful of my long hair. “Who do you think you are, Lia? You think our ten years together gives you a free pass to treat Kate however you want?” As he spoke, bodyguards materialized, pinning my arms. He brought the scissors to my hair and began to hack away, each rough cut a severing of a memory. In my despair, a ghost of a gentler time surfaced… back when Stephen wasn’t the untouchable CEO of Pierce Corp. To save money, he’d learned to cut hair himself, and he’d washed mine countless times, his fingers always so gentle. Today, for his assistant, he was shearing away the hair I cherished, and with it, every last shred of the love between us. When he was finished, the reflection in the shattered mirror showed a grotesque stranger with a butchered, patchy scalp. I screamed, a sound of pure agony, and lunged forward, smashing what was left of the mirror. His voice cut through my sobs, cold and hard as stone. He knelt before Kate, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles as if she were royalty. “For every ounce of grief she causes you, I will make her repay it a hundredfold. Now, is my princess satisfied?” Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, nodding shyly. She glanced at me, and her lips curled into the triumphant smile of a victor. “Look at you,” she sneered. “A plucked chicken. You really think you can compete with me for him now? He stopped loving you years ago. This desperation is just pathetic.” A hollow, empty smile stretched across my own lips. “Stephen,” I said, my voice eerfed by flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” “The life I wanted—one man, one woman, for a lifetime—you can’t give me that anymore.” He answered with a dismissive scoff. “You’re a housewife, Lia. You wouldn’t survive a day without me. A divorce? Fine. But Lily stays. She’s a Pierce. You’re not taking her anywhere.” With that, he swept Kate into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Soon, the sound of her delighted giggles drifted down from the master bedroom. I knelt on the floor, surrounded by the shorn locks of my hair, and finally let myself break completely. You’re wrong, Stephen. You can never take her with you. I found a hat, wiped my tears, and drove to the crematorium. After signing the release form for the ashes, I looked at the attendant, my voice trembling. “Could you… could you please put them in this urn for me?” My voice was steady, but my body swayed, and I nearly collapsed. It was a ceramic urn we had made together, as a family. I remember that day. Stephen had rushed through his part, his movements bored and dismissive. Then his phone rang, and he left without a backward glance. Lily had watched him go, her little mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. My heart ached. I knew that look. It was the face she made when she was disappointed beyond words. And now, she would sleep forever inside that very urn, the one her father couldn’t be bothered to look at twice. Before heading to the airport, I did one last thing. I sent a video file to an encrypted email address. Just as the plane was about to take off, a flight attendant approached me, her expression apologetic. “Mrs. Pierce? I’m sorry, but a suspicious item was detected in your luggage. We’ll need you to come with us for an additional security check.” My face remained calm, but my heart hammered against my ribs. When I stepped off the plane, I saw him. Stephen, with his arm wrapped tightly around Kate. His features were sharp and unforgiving in the cold wind. “Lia. Who gave you permission to leave Havenport?” His gaze dropped to the object in my arms. “And where is Lily? Why isn’t she with you?” I didn’t answer. I just turned and ran, a primal instinct to flee. Suddenly, bodyguards swarmed from all directions, their hands clamping down on my arms like iron vises. Stephen frowned, his eyes fixed on the urn I clutched to my chest. “Why are you carrying that ugly pot around on a plane?” Kate sashayed over, a smug look on her face, and snatched the urn from my hands with ease. I looked up at her, my voice raw and cracking, begging. “No! Please, don’t touch her! My daughter is in there!” She popped the lid off, dipped her fingers inside, and brought a pinch of the powder to her lips. “Kate, no! You already killed her! Let her rest in peace!” Amid my frantic screams, she licked her fingertips, a slight smirk on her face. Then, her expression soured. She gagged dramatically and, with a flick of her wrist, overturned the urn, dumping its entire contents onto the cold, unforgiving concrete. “Ugh, disgusting! It’s just flour! Lia, you really are a drama queen. You almost had us going there.” Hearing this, the tension drained from Stephen’s body. The dark storm in his eyes subsided. He lifted his expensive leather shoe and ground the powder on the ground into dust. “Lia, we’ll settle this little stunt later. I’ve already been to the hospital. Lily isn’t there. Where did you hide her?!” The blood drained from my face. I forced the words from my throat. “I’m not lying. Lily… is dead.” Stephen’s eyes turned to ice. “I’ll find out where she is myself. And since you refuse to tell the truth, perhaps you should never speak again.” He gave a sharp, brutal flick of his hand. “Take her. Sew her mouth shut.” The bodyguards approached me, vile grins spreading across their faces, as if they had been waiting for this moment their whole lives. “So sorry about this, Ma’am…” the leader sneered, his yellowed teeth flashing as he grabbed me. “Remember that time you cut your finger slicing fruit? The boss docked my pay for a whole year for that. Today, I finally get to collect on that debt.” The tip of the needle pierced my lip. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot through me, and my body convulsed in a silent, tear-soaked scream. Another guard leaned in close, his breath hot and foul in my ear. “Remember me, Ma’am? You wandered off while shopping, outside the protection detail. The boss gave me a hundred lashes for that…” The needle weaved in and out of my flesh, each pull of the thread an agony that tore through me. Through a blur of tears, I saw Stephen standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me with cold detachment. All the love, all the tender protection he had once showered upon me, had now been twisted into weapons used to destroy me, body and soul. Just as they were about to pull the final stitch tight, Stephen’s sharp eyes caught something. A glint of white in the gray dust on the ground. He bent down slowly, his movements stiff, and picked it up. It was… it was a tiny tooth, not quite consumed by the fire. He lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat, his voice a raw, desperate roar. “Lia, what is this powder on the ground?!” The man who always had the world in the palm of his hand was finally, terrifyingly, losing control. “Tell me! That’s not Lily’s ashes, is it? IS IT?!”

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The sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and I knew it was Alexander. The man I married—a man known for his cold, impenetrable discipline. And yet, his new secretary was sitting in my seat. Right then, I knew. This marriage was over. 1 That day, Alexander Sterling came to pick me up. My hand froze on the handle of the passenger side door. A young, beautiful girl was already sitting there, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “Mrs. Sterling! So nice to finally meet you!” Her greeting was polite, dripping with manufactured sweetness. But she made no move to get out. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Alexander. He was on the phone, his head bowed, oblivious to the silent storm brewing in his car. We were supposed to be going to an auction tonight. A date. I’d spent hours getting ready, anticipating this rare evening out with him, only to find my seat—my spot—occupied. “It’s an honor, Mrs. Sterling. I’m Shailene White, Mr. Sterling’s new assistant,” the girl chirped, her smile deepening to reveal two perfect, almost sickeningly sweet dimples. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, and I begged Mr. Sterling to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I won’t be any trouble at all.” A stone dropped in the pit of my stomach. I knew this man, this coolly perfect creature I was married to. He maintained a formidable distance from everyone. He didn’t let people in. Ours was a marriage of alliance, a calculated choice between two powerful families. People had joked that I was marrying a statue, that I’d be a lonely wife. But after we were engaged, Alexander would hold me with a surprising warmth in his eyes. In moments of passion, the tips of his ears would flush a deep red. “You’re my wife, Ava,” he’d said once, his voice low. “We’re a unit. That makes you different from everyone else.” Today, it seemed, something had changed. 2 But I am not some wilting flower who suffers in silence. I am Ava Newton, and I have never had to ask permission to be angry. “Out.” The single word, cold and sharp, hung in the air. The girl stared at me, her smile faltering. She clearly hadn’t expected me to humiliate her so publicly on our first meeting. My tone must have been harsher than I intended, because for a moment, Shailene looked utterly lost. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling.” Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears, as she scrambled into the back seat. Alexander finished his call just then, his eyes finding mine. He saw the fury on my face and a look of weary indulgence softened his features. He leaned across the console to buckle my seatbelt, his familiar cologne filling the space. But the seat felt wrong. It had been adjusted. My frustration boiled over. “This is infuriating!” I snapped, shoving the seat back aggressively. “Who the hell dares to change the settings on my seat?” The atmosphere in the car turned glacial. In the back, the girl was frozen in silence. Alexander’s brow furrowed slightly. His voice was calm, a stark contrast to my rage. “Ava, if you’re not in the mood tonight, we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I saw her, Shailene, silently weeping. The sight made my blood run cold. “Shailene White, is it?” I said, my voice dripping ice. “I’m no longer in the mood. You can get a cab home. My husband and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale, and she shot a desperate, pleading look at Alexander. He said nothing, offering her no escape. Defeated, she stumbled out of the car, a ghost in the twilight. 3 Alexander would never undermine me in front of others. He was a master of restraint. That’s why he suggested we go home. If there’s a problem, we solve it at home. It was our unspoken rule, a silent pact we’d honored for years. “She’s just a kid, Ava, fresh out of college. Why are you letting her get to you?” he said, pulling me into his arms the moment we stepped inside our house. “It’s the first time,” I stated, my voice flat. Alexander looked confused. “The first what?” “In all these years, it’s the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t realized. He hadn’t thought that was what this was about. In our circle, everyone knew how exceptional Alexander Sterling was. Women flocked to him, a constant, buzzing swarm of admirers. But he was untouchable. He moved through a garden of temptations, yet never once plucked a single flower. A faint smile touched his lips as he gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you jealous.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my cheek, his nose tracing a line down to my jaw. “She’s my employee, Ava. Nothing more. There is nothing between us, and there never will be.” He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice was a low, sincere vow. “I promise you.” 4 A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. Even after only one meeting with Shailene White, I knew. I knew she wanted more from Alexander than a paycheck. I had assumed my little show of force would be enough to put her in her place. But I was wrong. The necklace that should have been mine from the auction appeared the very next day, clasped around her neck. Hannah, Alexander’s chief assistant, sent me a picture and a screenshot from a private social media feed. In the photo, a delicate crescent moon, glittering with diamonds, rested against the pale skin of Shailene’s throat, making her look even more doll-like and innocent. Her eyes were red and swollen, but a triumphant little smile played on her lips. It seemed she’d cried herself a river last night and been rewarded with a very expensive gift. The screenshot was from her Instagram story: [Image: A close-up of the necklace nestled in a velvet box.] Caption: The boss says girls have to be strong even when they’re hurt! Wiping my tears and getting back to it! Yes, sir, Mr. Sterling! Ice flooded my veins. It’s embarrassing to admit, but her little performance almost made me lose my composure. It was an ugly feeling, like finding a pristine white silk scarf stained with a single, ugly drop of ink. The primal urge to jump in my yellow Ferrari, push it to 120, and slap that woman’s smug face was almost overwhelming. But then I looked at my own hands and thought better of it. Was I really going to let some cheap, manipulative girl get to me? That was beneath me. I picked up my phone and called Wendy at Hermès. The joy in Wendy’s voice was unmistakable. “Mrs. Sterling, don’t you worry about a thing,” she gushed. “Even if I have to turn Manhattan upside down, I will find every piece you need and have it delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the end of the workday, every single female assistant in the executive wing of Sterling Corp—forty-six women in total, excluding Shailene White—received a thick, orange box from the President’s wife. Inside each was a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. While the individual price couldn’t compete with the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, the sheer volume of it sent a clear message. Hannah, ever the smooth operator, included a small card with instructions for each recipient: post a picture to your social media with a specific caption. [Image: A selfie wearing the new Hermès necklace.] Caption: The boss’s wife says every girl deserves the best! Chin up, ladies! Thank you, Mrs. Sterling! The women were, of course, thrilled to comply. The executive assistants were the nerve center of the office grapevine. Which one of them wouldn’t happily post a picture of a gift from the President’s wife? One particularly savvy assistant even added her own little flourish: Mrs. Sterling knows how to play the game! #bosslady Within half an hour, the entire company was buzzing. Everyone knew the President’s wife had showered the assistants with Hermès. As for why… the gossip mills were churning at full capacity. Shailene White’s face turned ashen. Looking deeply insulted, she fled to the restroom, her eyes brimming with tears, and tore the diamond necklace from her neck. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and shared a knowing, dismissive laugh. Burning with humiliation, Shailene hurried out, the sound of their mockery chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks were hot with shame as she placed the diamond necklace back in its box. She then marched straight to Alexander’s office and returned it. 5 Alexander had just ended a video conference with his partners when he looked up to see Shailene, clutching the necklace box, her eyes red-rimmed and fixed on the floor. She had clearly been crying again. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. Shailene’s tears started to fall before she could even speak. “Mr. Sterling,” she choked out, the picture of fragile innocence, “please, take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Alexander’s stern face. His gut told him something had happened, but he didn’t press. He simply waited, his gaze fixed on her. Finally, biting her lip, Shailene told him everything that had transpired in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling. I seem to always be causing trouble for you,” she whispered between sobs. “I just posted that to encourage myself. I don’t know how Mrs. Sterling even saw it… I never thought she would get so angry.” She looked like a terrified rabbit. “Mr. Sterling, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her face-to-face.” Alexander never looked at social media. His time was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a massive corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious undercurrents of office politics. His expression grew colder. “I understand,” he said, his voice a low rumble. 6 That evening, Alexander brought Shailene home. She trailed behind him, timid and quiet, as they entered our living room. “I asked Shailene to come so she could clear the air with you directly,” Alexander said with a sigh. “Ava, she is just my secretary. I gave her the necklace as an apology for what happened yesterday. That’s all it was.” I stirred the last of the bird’s nest soup the housekeeper had prepared for me and took a final, deliberate sip. “Mrs. Sterling, I am so sorry,” Shailene said, bowing deeply. She was a master of the frail, vulnerable act. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift, and I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please, just tell me. I’ll fix it immediately!” I raised an eyebrow. “Shailene White, is it?” She darted a glance at Alexander, as if trying to draw courage from his presence, before giving a slow, hesitant nod. The sight of this girl, so determined to challenge me in my own home, was almost laughable. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. It’s not my job to teach you how to behave,” I said coolly. “But I am Alexander Sterling’s wife. And I will not give a second chance to anyone who dares to blur the lines with my husband.” She looked stunned, as if no one had ever spoken to her so bluntly. The only expression left on her face was one of pure, helpless fragility. “Ava,” Alexander interjected, his voice tight. “Shailene is here to apologize.” He knew me. He knew my temperament and my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of what I’d done today, he understood why I’d done it. By bringing her here, he was making a concession, trying to get me to let it go. We were both intelligent people; we could read each other with a single look. “Fine,” I said, deciding to give him this one chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But it won’t happen again. Not with her, not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics against a young girl,” Alexander said later that night as we prepared for bed. “You should have come to me first.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, my eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror. He was so devastatingly handsome. “You knew I wanted that necklace, Alexander. Yet you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine it—if this perfect man were ever truly tarnished, could I still love him the way I did now? He walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water, his movements calm and deliberate. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. Her eyes were so swollen this morning, I gave her the necklace as an apology. It was an impulse.” His story was flawless. I studied his reflection for a long, silent moment. Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It all depended on who was on the receiving end. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me. This was the first time we’d ever had a real conflict over a third person, and the entire situation felt exhausting, an affront to the cultivated decorum we both valued. We were people who prized our dignity above all else. “Alexander,” I said softly. “I love you.” His tapping stopped. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. “I love the man you are—the one who is spotless, who is different from everyone else. You never let other women get close because you value emotional fidelity, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t always like that, but you changed me. We want the same thing now. I hope our marriage never reaches a crossroads.” A weary sigh escaped him. “It hasn’t.” 8 Alexander is an intelligent man. He knew he had crossed a line, and I trusted him not to give Shailene any more false hope. Without the CEO’s favor, Shailene, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she had occasionally been given shifts at the main reception desk. Now, Hannah simply left her off the schedule entirely. I never told anyone to ostracize her. Since Alexander had his boundaries, I trusted him to handle it. But in a place like Sterling Corp, you don’t need direct orders for the wolves to start circling. The sycophants and ladder-climbers did the work for me. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the drastic fall from grace and the psychological toll. She lost weight, her bright-eyed optimism dimming into a perpetual state of anxiety. The breaking point came after a high-level board meeting. Shailene had been assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. Alexander, having forgotten a file, walked back in to find her on her knees in her pencil skirt, painstakingly scraping a piece of gum off the plush carpet with a small blade. She sensed his presence and scrambled to her feet, mortified. Alexander’s gaze was deep and cold. He just stood there, his silence stripping away the last of her pride. “Mr. Sterling,” she whispered, tears beginning to fall. These weren’t crocodile tears. There was no performance. Alexander was the sun she admired from afar, a star she could never touch. Just as she was beginning to accept her fate on the fringes, he had to see her like this—at her absolute lowest. She wanted nothing more than to push past him and run. In just two weeks, the cheerful, vibrant girl he had first met had become this fragile, broken thing. That night was the first time Alexander ever truly lost his temper with me. He came home in a fury. The glass of water I offered him, he didn’t drop it. He threw it. It shattered on the marble floor at my feet. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?” he roared, his voice shaking with a rage I had never seen before. “Ava, I respect you, I love you, and I have tolerated your cruelty and your insults towards her time and again. But what sick thrill do you get from tormenting someone weaker than you?” Suddenly, I remembered. During his time at Yale, Alexander’s younger sister, who was in middle school, had taken her own life after relentless bullying. It was a scar on his soul, a wound that never healed. He despised bullies with a passion that bordered on obsession. “Ava, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “Because next time, I won’t just stand by and watch.” I stared at the man before me, a stranger whose face was contorted with an emotion I couldn’t recognize. For the first time in our marriage, Alexander had lost his reason—all for another woman, and for something I hadn’t even done. The feeling was sickening. It felt like the shattering of glass. Like a fine crack spidering across a perfect mirror. Something that could never be undone.

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My roommate, Megan, was the star of the campus gossip page, wearing my dress. It was the dress I’d bought specifically for next week’s Hosting Competition. The tags were still on. I screenshotted the photo and sent it to her with a simple question: “Where is my dress?” She replied instantly with a voice note, her tone light and teasing. “Omg, Celia, you saw! Don’t I look amazing in it? I just had to borrow it. We’re roommates, what’s mine is yours, right?” A moment later, another picture came through. A huge splash of red wine stained the front of my brand-new white dress. The caption read: “Oops, I spilled something on it. You’re rich, just buy another one?” 1 Staring at the garish red stain on my phone screen, my fingers went cold, but my heart was strangely calm. I didn’t feel the white-hot rage of betrayal that had consumed me in my past life. Having been reborn, all I felt was a grim sense of amusement. In my last life, her casual entitlement had driven me insane. I’d screamed at her over the phone, but she played the victim, running back to the dorm in tears. She told our roommates I was overreacting, that I was a snob who looked down on her just because my family had money. Our other two roommates, Leah and Chloe, sided with her. One tried to play peacemaker, the other thought I was being petty. In the end, I was the one who was ostracized. Without a suitable dress and my confidence shattered, I bombed the Hosting Competition. Megan, meanwhile, sat in the audience wearing another beautiful dress she had “borrowed” from someone else, laughing with the guy she was trying to impress. After that, I was completely isolated in the dorm. Megan’s attacks escalated. She spread rumors that I cheated to get my scholarships, that I was sleeping with professors to get into exclusive programs. Eventually, the gossip broke me. I was diagnosed with severe depression and had to take a leave of absence, my college career in ruins. And Megan? She thrived. Under the guise of a “hardworking student from a poor background,” she won the national scholarship that should have been mine, secured a spot in a top graduate program, and lived a life of celebrated success. It wasn’t until after I jumped from the roof of a high-rise that I overheard people talking. From the moment I’d arrived at university, she had been consumed by jealousy, meticulously planning my destruction. Living a second time, I wouldn’t make the same mistakes. With people like Megan, arguing is useless. I didn’t reply to her text. Instead, I got up and headed back to the dorm. When I pushed open the door, Megan was lying on her bed with a face mask on, casually scrolling through her phone as if she hadn’t just destroyed something precious to someone else. Our other two roommates, Leah and Chloe, were there as well. Seeing me, Megan lazily took off her headphones, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Celia, you’re back! Don’t be mad about the dress, okay? I’ll wash it for you tomorrow.” I walked to my closet and opened it. It was empty. She hadn’t even bothered to bring the dress back. I turned, my gaze calm and steady. “Where is it?” My stare made her uncomfortable. She sat up. “Oh, it’s hanging up to dry outside. You have to treat a wine stain right away, you know. Don’t worry, I used the most expensive stain remover. It’ll be good as new.” She was deflecting, completely avoiding the topic of compensation. “Megan,” I said, my voice even and cold. “I bought that dress for the Hosting Competition. I need it next week. Tell me, right now, how you plan to fix this.” The atmosphere in the room froze. Leah and Chloe stopped what they were doing, looking at me with surprise. In their eyes, I had always been the quiet, gentle, even weak one. Megan’s smile faltered. “Celia, what’s your problem? It’s just a dress. I already said I’d wash it for you. What more do you want? Do you have to be so aggressive?” “Yes,” I said, the single word hanging in the air like ice. “First, you took my new dress without my permission. That’s called stealing.” “Second, you ruined my property and show no remorse, even suggesting I should be the one to replace it. That’s called being shameless.” “And third,” I said, looking her straight in the eye, “my things, even if I were to throw them in the trash, are too good for someone like you to touch.” My words struck her like a slap. Her face mask nearly slid off as she shot up from her bed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Celia! What did you just say? Who’s a thief? We’re roommates! What’s the big deal if I wear your clothes? You have no right to talk to me like that!” “Roommates?” I let out a cold laugh. “Does being roommates mean you can take whatever you want without asking? If I recall, Megan, this isn’t the first time. My face wash, my masks, my snacks… what haven’t you ‘borrowed’?” “I let it slide before because I couldn’t be bothered to argue. That doesn’t mean I’m a doormat. Today, you will answer for this dress.” Megan was shaking with fury. She never expected me, the easy-going one, to be so confrontational. Her eyes reddened, and her voice immediately took on a tearful quaver as she turned to our roommates. “Leah, Chloe, do you hear her? I just thought the dress was pretty and wanted to take a picture in it. I never meant to stain it… It was an accident. How can she say such horrible things to me?” It was a well-rehearsed performance. In my last life, everyone fell for her damsel-in-distress act. Even I had questioned if I was being a bully and backed down. Predictably, Leah wavered. She stood up to mediate. “Come on, Celia. Megan didn’t do it on purpose. Don’t be so angry. We all have to live together, let’s not ruin the friendship over a dress.” Megan quickly chimed in, “Yeah, Celia, I know I was wrong. I’m sorry, okay? Please don’t be like this…” “If ‘sorry’ was enough, we wouldn’t need police,” I cut her off flatly. “I don’t want your apology. I want compensation.” I took out my phone, pulled up my order history, and turned the screen toward them. “French puff-sleeve dress, white, size medium. Price: $200. Megan, you can either transfer me the money, or you can buy me an identical one. You have twenty-four hours to decide.” “$200?!” Megan’s crying stopped abruptly, her eyes wide with shock. “Are you crazy? A stupid dress costs that much? Celia, you’re trying to extort me!” “Didn’t you see the price tag when you stole it?” I shot back. Of course she had. In my past life, after ruining the dress, she’d specifically cut the tag off to feign ignorance about its value. “I—I wasn’t paying attention!” she stammered, her neck stiff with defiance. “How was I supposed to know you’d buy such an expensive dress? You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” “You know perfectly well whether it was on purpose or not,” I said, putting my phone away. My tone left no room for argument. “If I don’t see the money or a new dress by the end of the day, we’ll take this to the student advisor.” With that, I pulled out a chair, sat down at my desk, put on my headphones, and opened my laptop, making it clear that the matter was not closed. I knew that with someone like Megan, backing down was the worst possible move. The more you retreat, the more she advances. The only way to deal with her was to escalate, to make her understand that I was serious. Only then would she feel fear. 2 Seeing that her usual tactics weren’t working, Megan dropped the act entirely. She started throwing a full-blown tantrum, screaming and crying, her words turning vile. “You bitch, Celia! Who do you think you are, pretending to be so high and mighty? You’re only acting this way because your family has a little money! Don’t you dare play the princess with me!” “It’s just a dress! Do you have to be like this? Are you just waiting to see me humiliated? To see me unable to pay so you can run to the advisor and get me in trouble?” “Well, I’m telling you, I don’t have any money! Not a single cent! Go on, report me! Let’s see who the advisor believes—a spoiled rich girl like you, or a hardworking scholarship student like me!” Her insults grew uglier. Even Chloe, standing to the side, couldn’t take it anymore. “Megan, that’s enough,” she said with a frown. “You were the one in the wrong here.” “How was I wrong?” Megan immediately turned on her. “You think she’s right just because she has money? Is that it? Do you all look down on me?” The dorm descended into chaos. Through it all, I sat there quietly, my fingers tapping away on my keyboard. There was no music playing in my headphones. My phone was on my desk, the recording app open. Every single word she said was being captured. This was a gift, Megan. Evidence you delivered yourself. 3 After ranting for half an hour and getting no reaction from me, Megan seemed to lose steam. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Silence finally returned to the room. Leah gave me an awkward glance, wanting to say something but holding back. Chloe shot me an apologetic look; Megan had screamed at her too for trying to defend me. I shook my head slightly to let her know it was fine. I knew this war was just beginning. Sure enough, that night, a new post blew up on the university’s anonymous forum. The title was: Exposing my ‘Rich Bitch’ Roommate Who Gets a $2k Allowance but is Driving Her Poor Roommate to Suicide Over a Dress. In the post, the author wrote in a deeply wounded, pitiful tone about how she had “accidentally” stained her roommate’s “expensive” dress. She described how she had humbly apologized, only to be brutally humiliated and forced to pay a sum she could never afford. The poster claimed, through what felt like digital tears, that this “rich bitch” roommate constantly flaunted her luxury goods and looked down on students from normal families. This time, she was just using the dress as an excuse to push her over the edge. No names were mentioned, but every detail pointed directly at me: the Hosting Competition, the white dress, the wealthy background. The comment section exploded. “Wtf, people like this actually exist at our university? Unbelievable.” “What’s wrong with being poor? Does that mean you deserve to be bullied? I can’t stand rich people who think they’re better than everyone!” “To the OP, don’t cry, we support you! Drop the rich bitch’s name and major, let’s make her famous!” “A $2k monthly allowance and she’s still living in a dorm? Is this some kind of poverty tourism? Disgusting.” The comments were a cesspool of vitriol and speculation, painting me as a cruel, abusive monster. Megan’s methods were identical to my last life. But this time, I wasn’t going to be the flustered girl trying to post feeble explanations, only to be torn apart by the mob. I read through the lies, saved the audio file from the afternoon, and then calmly composed an email to my student advisor, Mr. Wallace. Dear Mr. Wallace, My name is Celia Stone, from the School of Journalism and Communication, class of ’25. I apologize for bothering you this late. I would like to clarify the situation regarding a conflict between myself and my roommate, Megan, as well as a recent post on the university forum. Attached is an audio recording of the events, along with the proof of purchase for the item in question. I am available to discuss this in person at your office tomorrow morning. After sending the email, I silenced my phone, climbed into bed, and went to sleep. Let the storm rage outside. This time, I was the eye of it. The next morning, the atmosphere in the dorm was strange. Megan, who usually slept in, was already awake and putting on makeup, her eyes red and puffy as if she’d been crying all night. Leah was sitting on her bed, comforting her in a low voice, occasionally shooting me a disapproving glare. Chloe looked conflicted. They had all seen the post. When Megan saw I was awake, she looked at me with a timid, yet hateful, expression, as if I were the villain in this story. I ignored her, went about my morning routine, and got dressed. Just as I was about to leave, Mr. Wallace called. “Celia, can you come to my office now? I’ve already notified Megan to come as well,” he said, his voice stern. “Of course, Mr. Wallace. I’m on my way.” After hanging up, I looked at Megan, who was still perfecting her fragile act. “The advisor wants to see you in his office.” Megan flinched, but then a flicker of triumph crossed her face. She clearly thought the advisor had seen the post and was about to deliver justice for the “victim.” She followed me out of the dorm. On the way, I could feel the stares and hear the whispers. “Look, that’s her. The rich girl who’s bullying her poor roommate.” “She looks so put-together, how can she be so cruel?” “I heard her roommate is on the verge of a breakdown because of her…” I kept my head held high and walked straight to the administration building. Megan deliberately lagged a few steps behind, her head bowed, occasionally dabbing at the corner of her eye, milking her victim persona for all it was worth. She thought public opinion was her ultimate weapon. She had no idea that in the face of hard evidence, her performance was nothing more than a pathetic joke. The mood in Mr. Wallace’s office was tense. He was a man in his thirties with a scholarly air, but his brow was deeply furrowed. Megan and I walked in. The moment she saw him, tears started streaming down her face like a broken faucet. “Mr. Wallace…” she choked out, unable to say more, as if she were the most wronged person in the world. Mr. Wallace gestured for us to sit. He glanced at me, then turned his full attention to Megan. “Megan, please, try to calm down. Tell me what happened, from the beginning.” Megan began her story, a tearful retelling of the forum post. She painted herself as an innocent girl who had made a simple mistake and was now being relentlessly persecuted by her cruel roommate. “I really didn’t mean to, Mr. Wallace. I felt so bad about the dress, I wanted to wash it for her. But Celia… she demanded I pay her $200. I’m a scholarship student. I live on a tiny budget. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” “She insulted me, she called me a thief, she said I was shameless, that I was too dirty to even touch her things…” She grew more agitated, the tears flowing faster. “Last night, she threatened me. She said if I didn’t give her the money today, she’d report me to you and have you discipline me… Mr. Wallace, she’s driving me crazy…” Her performance was flawless, complete with terrified glances in my direction, as if I were a monster poised to devour her. If I hadn’t been there myself, I might have believed her. Mr. Wallace listened patiently. When she was finished, he turned to me. “Celia, do you have anything to say in response to Megan’s claims?” I had been silent the entire time. Now, I spoke, my voice calm and clear. “Mr. Wallace, I have two questions for Megan.”

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The third time my childhood friend brought up the scholarship student, I laughed and teased him. “You think she has a crush on you?” His expression turned serious. “Merrin,” he said, his voice firm, “don’t joke like that. She’s not like us. You should never look down on someone who works hard.” I stuck my tongue out, a lump forming in my throat. In the end, the two of them went to the best music conservatory in the country together. And I? I threw away my violin, moved to another continent, and switched my major to finance. The battle between the red rose and the white one was a thing of the distant past. The day I came back, he took me to dinner and placed a piece of fish on my plate. Without thinking, I pushed it to the side. He froze, a long silence stretching between us. 01 I only told my parents I was coming back, but the Chows and the Langleys have always been close. So, when I saw Adrian Chow at the airport terminal, I wasn’t surprised. Years had passed, but he was still devastatingly handsome. His features were sharp and elegant, his posture refined. Dressed in a dark trench coat, he approached me with an unhurried grace that was all his own. The girls nearby were stealing glances at him, captivated by that unique musician’s aura. He smiled and naturally took the suitcase from my hand. “Merrin, was the flight tiring?” he asked, his voice as smooth as I remembered. “The car’s warm. Why don’t you get in first?” When I didn’t move, his smile widened. “Your dad asked me to pick you up.” I hesitated for a second before sliding into the back seat. “Aren’t you busy?” I asked, making small talk. “It’s a Monday.” “The princess has returned,” he said, his eyes deep and unreadable. “How could I possibly be too busy for that?” I waved a hand dismissively, forcing a laugh. “Don’t tease me. That nickname is so childish. It’s weird hearing it now.” He faltered, just for a moment, then recovered. “It’s been so long. We should get dinner.” It was already late. I thought about it. “Alright.” In the rearview mirror, I could feel Adrian’s gaze on me. I pretended not to notice, looking down at my phone to reply to a message. Just landed. The reply was almost instantaneous. Have some fun in the city for a bit. I’ll be there next week, as soon as I wrap things up here. I was about to type back when another message came through. Things have been crazy. I miss you. The London Stock Exchange had been volatile lately. He was probably swamped with meetings. My heart softened. “Don’t stare at your phone in the car,” Adrian said gently, noticing my silence. “You’ll get dizzy.” I paused. That familiar, caring tone—gentle and a little bit indulgent. I couldn’t help but look at him. It had been years since we’d really talked, not since our last, bitter fight. But he was acting as if nothing had ever happened. He smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. I put my phone down. “How are my parents?” Coming back was mostly for them. Seven years had passed. The old obsessions and resentments had faded. “Your mom was discharged a few days ago. The surgery was a success,” he said, his tone light. “Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?” I fell silent. His uncle was one of the most renowned doctors in the city. The Chow family had clearly been a great help. I offered a polite, distant smile. “Thank you.” The words hung in the air. Adrian froze. I used to be shameless with him. I’d make him buy me milk tea. I’d complain that my hand was sore from playing the violin and make him massage it. I’d even fake-trip so he’d have to kneel down and tie my shoelaces. I would laugh and throw my arms around his neck, never once saying thank you. He would just flick my forehead, exasperated. “You’re impossible. You have to grow up sometime.” The car stopped at a red light. Adrian rested his hand on the open window. “And you?” he asked, his voice casual. “How have you been, all these years?” 02 After I’d dropped my things at my apartment, he took me to a nearby restaurant. It was a French place I used to love. As the waiter served our steaks, I answered his question nonchalantly. “Fine. London’s great.” Adrian smiled warmly. “I should visit sometime.” He stopped talking and replaced my glass of red wine with a soft drink. I sighed. “You know, I’m a grown woman. You don’t have to do that.” He was insistent. “Girls should drink less.” The restaurant had a small stage for live music. A few young women who were performing spotted Adrian, their eyes lighting up. They rushed over for an autograph. After he signed, he whispered something to them. They covered their mouths, glanced at me, and then scurried back to the stage, giddy with excitement. A moment later, a familiar melody began to play. My hand froze mid-air. It was a violin. A Norwegian dance. A complex piece with the crisp, clean scent of summer. I could still remember the summer I turned seventeen, with Adrian sitting beside me, patiently practicing it with me over and over again. In the candlelight, he smiled. “By the way, Merrin, you should come over soon. My parents are always asking about you. And we have your favorite mille-feuille. Oh, and our cat had kittens last year…” As he spoke, he casually placed a piece of salmon on my plate. I looked down and pushed it to the side. Adrian’s voice trailed off. He fell silent for a long time, then rubbed his temples, a sudden weariness in his eyes. “Merrin,” he said, his voice low. “After all this time, do you still hate me?” My fork clattered against my plate. He looked genuinely bewildered. “We grew up together. Is it all because I held her hand during a curtain call?” The violin music continued to drift through the restaurant. As the piece transitioned, the melody soured, dredging up older, uglier memories. Memories that made my stomach churn with anger and disgust. Adrian’s voice grew louder, his fingers tapping against his wine glass. “Is that why you gave up on your dream? Why you never touched the violin again? You just threw everything away and left the country by yourself?” He frowned. “All I did was not shake off her hand when she reached for me… We were on stage, Merrin. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” Heads were turning in our direction. I stopped moving, the years-old argument rising up again, a bitter taste in my mouth. I dropped my knife and fork, the silverware clinking sharply. I tilted my head, my eyes curving into a smile. “Mr. Chow, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. A beautiful first love in your youth? It’s a classic romance story.” I feigned confusion. “Why would I be angry?” Adrian stared at me. I picked up my purse. “You have your dreams, and I’m allowed to choose my own path,” I said coolly. “There’s no need to bring up the past.” I glanced at the musicians on stage. “And honestly,” I said, my voice clear and cutting, “I find this piece rather unpleasant.” The music stopped abruptly. As I turned to leave, Adrian grabbed my wrist. His eyes were unreadable. “So, you studied finance, something you were never good at, and just accepted your family’s arranged marriage?” he demanded, his voice low and intense. “You’re going to marry a man you don’t even know, just to get back at me?” He shook his head slowly. “Merrin Langley, you must have lost your mind.” I calmly pulled my hand away. “What’s it to you?” I asked softly. “Adrian, in what capacity are you even speaking to me right now?” His eyes were dark as ink. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I smiled. As I walked out, I paused. “Oh, by the way. I heard you and Nelly Guan were both made principal players this year. Congratulations.” 03 My head was throbbing. I stopped at a coffee shop and ordered an Americano. While I waited, a woman in a pencil skirt with a sharp, short haircut sat down across from me. Her eyes scanned the room and then landed on me. Her face lit up. “Merrin! What a coincidence!” She put down her phone and extended a hand. “It’s been so long! I was in your class in high school.” I was a bit taken aback. That part of my life, the part I had deliberately tried to erase, had become a blur. “You and Adrian helped pay my tuition once,” she continued, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I’ve always wanted to thank you both properly.” When I didn’t respond, she waved her hand dismissively. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. You two were so popular, you helped so many people. You’re still as gorgeous as ever! You and Adrian were always such a perfect match.” I lowered my eyes, unsure what to say. The woman, however, was just getting started. “You two are so low-key, though! Not a single word about you getting together all these years. You know, there was this crazy betting pool on the school forum back in the day. The Red Rose versus the White Moonlight. The arguments were epic.” She took a sip of her coffee, her expression indignant. “It made me so mad. How could Nelly Guan even compare to you? You were childhood sweethearts! She had nothing on that.” “Ma’am, your Americano is ready.” I stood up, a wry smile touching my lips. I remembered the forum. Seven years ago, arrogant and full of myself, I had publicly cast a vote for myself. I never imagined I’d be the one to flee in defeat. I turned back to her. “I’m sorry, I have to run.” She wasn’t offended at all. She just waved cheerfully. “Merrin, you have to invite me to your next concert! I’ll buy out the whole place!” I froze for a second before pushing the door open and stepping out into the cold night air. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, to see the disappointment in her hopeful eyes. I had abandoned that dream a long time ago. I haven’t touched a violin in seven years. The city nights were dry and cold, nothing like the soft, persistent drizzle of London. Some memories, you can’t escape. They creep back in, uninvited, and turn your world upside down. My mind drifted back. Everyone used to know I had two loves in my life: the violin, and Adrian Chow. It was simple. I’d known him forever. We’d started playing at the same time, lived in the same neighborhood, our parents were lifelong friends. We shared a natural, innate talent for music. We practiced together, competed together, learned together. We knew everything about each other. We were a perfect match. I was proud and playful; he was gentle and patient. We did everything together. Skiing in the Alps, getting into the same elite high school, riding our bikes home after class. He carried my backpack, bought me milk tea, tied my shoes. Family background, looks, talent—it all aligned. Everyone assumed I would become a world-renowned musician. And then, I would marry Adrian Chow. But in the summer of our sophomore year, someone completely different entered our lives. Her name was Nelly Guan. She was just an ordinary girl. 04 Adrian first noticed his new deskmate when he casually offered her a milk tea. The shop had gotten my order wrong, and I was, as always, picky. He shrugged, about to toss it in the trash. “Excuse me… could I have that?” A small, timid voice. It was Nelly, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. On the way home, Adrian told me about it. “I think she has low blood sugar. She doesn’t have much money for food.” It was the first time I’d ever heard him show concern for anyone else. At the time, I was at the peak of my youthful arrogance. I thought he was just being soft-hearted. In our specialized music program, Nelly was a try-hard, always at the bottom of the class. She only ever wore the standard blue-and-white school uniform. She’d get flustered and miss a beat while playing the piano, then start crying. She was a completely unremarkable girl. But then, Adrian started talking about her more and more. He’d say how talented she was, how much he admired her. “But I’m a hundred times better than her,” I’d protest. He would stop and look at me seriously. “Merrin, she’s not like us. Don’t look down on people who are ordinary and hardworking.” Sometimes, in class, a ripple of laughter would spread from the back of the room. We’d all turn to see Adrian, blushing, trying to cover Nelly’s mouth as she giggled. She would just blink innocently, her eyes meeting mine across the room. He started bringing her things when he brought them for me. He let her use our private practice room. He never said no to her. People started joking about it. Nelly was the white moonlight, and I was the red rose. One pure and simple, the other proud and vibrant. The battle of the red rose and the white moonlight became a recurring theme for the next three years. The labels stuck to me like a shadow, a constant, ghostly presence. Whenever Adrian and I were together, the comparison was inevitable. “She has such a princess attitude. Nelly is so much nicer.” “Guys always prefer the gentle type. And Nelly’s situation is so sad.” “Merrin Langley is too competitive. Though I guess she’s prettier than Nelly.” Nelly, Nelly, Nelly… I became agitated, prone to fits of temper. I couldn’t believe it. “Are you really falling for her?” I demanded. He would just flick my forehead. “Don’t say things like that. It’s not fair to her.” At the school festival, he agreed to accompany her on the piano. They were perfect together, earning thunderous applause. In the excitement of the moment, during their final bow, Nelly grabbed his hand. Flushed and radiant, the usually plain girl looked almost beautiful. Adrian hesitated for a moment, then let her hold it. A photo of them—his white shirt, her white dress—went viral online. I saw red. I threw out every single one of his white shirts. We didn’t speak for weeks. From then on, the sight of white clothes made me want to vomit. 05 The faint, ethereal sound of a violin drifted from somewhere nearby. That’s right, a slow tempo, a rising and falling melody. I was sitting in the audition room. The adjudicators were all familiar faces. The piece I’d drawn was the Norwegian dance. Outside the glass, I saw Adrian let out a quiet sigh of relief. This was our song, the soundtrack to the summer we turned seventeen. I knew it by heart. My lips were pale. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play. The notes were clear and bright, but in my mind, a sickening scene was unfolding. This passage—where their hands had intertwined. This measure—where he had patiently tapped out the rhythm for her. My violin—where her hair had brushed against the strings… How could he? How could he? And why, of all the pieces in the world, did it have to be this one? A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I played faster and faster, my fingers flying across the fingerboard. A string snapped, slicing my finger open. I opened my eyes, stood up calmly, bowed to the stunned adjudicators, and walked out of the room. … “Ma’am? Can you spare some change?” I was pulled back to the present. A small boy stood on the street corner, holding a battered old violin. I knelt down. “Were you the one playing just now?” “Yeah! It’s the only song I know…” He looked downcast. “My mom broke my violin. I’m trying to save up to fix it. I saw you listening for a long time. You must like the violin too. Can you help me out?” I’d just gotten back from abroad and had no cash on me. A hand with long, elegant fingers reached past me, holding out a few large bills. “Here, kid. Get your violin fixed. And practice hard.” A cool, familiar voice. Adrian. He ruffled the boy’s hair, his eyes flicking to me. “He’s got spirit,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “More than some people I know.” I stood up and walked away without a word. Adrian fell into step beside me. The moonlight cast long shadows on the pavement. After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Giving up after one failure… that’s not the Merrin Langley I know. How does that make you any better than the Nelly Guan you always looked down on?” My eyes were chips of ice. I stopped walking. “So? What are you trying to say? You two got what you wanted. Why are you still bothering me?” He looked at me, a deep, searching gaze, and handed me a ticket. “A very famous investment banker is coming to the city next week. I’ve been scheduled to perform. The tickets are impossible to get. I want you to be there… There’s something I need to tell you.”

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On the morning we were supposed to go to the courthouse, my fiancée—the CEO of the company we built together—intercepted me. She needed to marry her childhood friend first, to help him get his green card. She said it so casually, as if she were rescheduling a lunch meeting. As compensation, she told me, he’d bought me a car. When I stood there, silent, the condescension on her face was a mask she didn’t even bother to wear. “Cody picked it out himself, Ethan. That should count for something, right?” “Our relationship doesn’t need to be defined by a piece of paper,” she continued, the words worn smooth from overuse. “Once his residency is settled, we’ll have a proper wedding. It’s just a formality.” I heard myself agree, my voice a flat, distant thing. I watched her get into a car with Cody Hayes and drive off toward the courthouse. This was hardly the first time Ava had torched our life for the sake of the boy from back home, a man with barely a high school education. She’d put his name on a proposal I’d pulled three all-nighters to finish. She’d removed me as project lead and installed him in my place, spinning it as “nurturing new talent.” When I’d spent a month sourcing the perfect birthday gifts for her parents, she presented them as thoughtful treasures from Cody. In the two months since he’d arrived in New York, she had threatened to break up with me seventy-six times to get her way. Each time, the refrain was the same: “Cody and I are family, Ethan. Why do you have to make everything such a big deal?” If her heart already belonged to another family, what was the point of trying to be a part of hers? I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for the head of our industry’s leading firm. Before I could even speak, a warm, feminine voice, full of surprise and hope, came through the line. “Ethan? Does this mean you’ve finally made up your mind to come work with me?” … 1 The moment I stepped into the office, I saw the “car” Cody had bought me. It was a pink women’s beach cruiser, parked right next to my desk. A ridiculously large, glittery bow was tied to the handlebars. A few colleagues were whispering around it, their conversation dying the second they saw me. Their eyes held that familiar, toxic cocktail of pity and amusement. “So that’s the gift from Cody to our Director Wu? How… unique.” “Shh, he’s here.” Expressionless, I walked over, pushed the bicycle into a forgotten corner, and didn’t give it a second glance. Ava’s call came moments later. I answered to the immediate sound of her irritation. “Why did you take so long to pick up? Are you having second thoughts about Cody’s situation? God, Ethan, can you stop being so petty? For once, can’t you just try to understand?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, this is just paperwork. It’s about securing Cody’s future. Don’t you and I have enough trust between us to handle this?” My silence must have registered. Her tone softened, the practiced shift of a seasoned manipulator. “Look, I know this is hard for you. But you know he’s like a little brother to me. I can’t just stand by and watch him struggle.” She paused, letting the bait hang in the air. “You’ve always been the one who gets me. You’ll understand this time, too. Right?” She was worried about him struggling, but not about my heart freezing over. And besides, what kind of company needed its CEO to enter a sham marriage to retain a “talent” who’d faked his college degree? It was all just an excuse, a flimsy cover for her blatant favoritism. I was too tired to argue. “Mhm,” I managed. “One more thing,” she said, her voice all business again. “That project Cody’s been having trouble with—I need you to fix it. I want a solution on my desk by the end of the day. It’s your responsibility. Don’t disappoint me.” A cold laugh caught in my throat. So that was the real reason for the call. I was being dispatched to clean up Cody’s latest mess. It was a familiar role. She was always protecting him, burying his mistakes, even paying a client out of her own pocket after Cody got into a drunken fistfight with him at a bar. The project in question was one I had personally secured after a month of grueling negotiations, catering to the client’s every bizarre demand. But Ava had dismissed my work with a breezy, “We’re all on the same team,” and handed the title of Project Lead to Cody. Now, after he’d assaulted the client, the punishment had somehow landed on me for “failing to properly manage him.” And I was supposed to salvage it? The audacity was breathtaking. Even her sudden agreement to marry me, after seven years, had been a calculated move for Cody’s green card. Seven years of us. I’d lost count of how many times I’d brought up marriage. Each time, she had an excuse. At first, we were fresh out of college, focused on our careers. I understood. Then we started the company, and it took off. She wanted to wait until we went public. I understood that, too. Then, we were a top-five firm in our sector, the IPO was a success, and my college roommate’s kid was starting elementary school. I thought, this time, it has to be different. When I asked again, she accused me of being conventional, of not understanding her. “Aren’t things perfect the way they are? Why do you need a piece of paper to validate us?” An hour later, she sent me to JFK to pick up Cody, who was just arriving in New York. In the two months he’d been here, she’d used our relationship as a weapon against me seventy-six times. And with each threat, it became painfully clear to everyone where her loyalty truly lay. The respect in my employees’ eyes curdled into knowing glances. Her parents’ warmth toward me cooled into indifference. My friends started dropping not-so-subtle hints, urging me to wake up. They were right. It was time to wake up. I was clinging to seven years of history, but she was only clinging to Cody. Mistaking my silence for submission, Ava’s voice turned cheerful, as if the matter was settled. “Don’t worry. The second Cody’s green card is approved, I’ll file for divorce and we’ll get married. We’ll have the wedding of your dreams, okay?” She added, “Oh, and did you see the car he got you? Isn’t it great? He’s such a thoughtful kid. You should cut him some slack, you know? Don’t make people think you’re small-minded.” A bitter laugh escaped me. She couldn’t go three sentences without circling back to her wonderful Cody. While I was working late nights to save our company, she was at Per Se with him, posting on Instagram about the importance of “making memories.” While I was at the hospital with her sick father, she and Cody were skiing in Aspen, captioning their photos with “The brave enjoy the world first.” She was enjoying the world, alright, while I was the one carrying its weight for her. And still, in her eyes, I’d never measure up to him. Before I could reply, I heard his voice in the background, whining. “Ava, come on! The office is closing for lunch soon!” “Gotta go,” she said, all business again. “Don’t forget to handle that project.” She hung up. I gripped my phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. She couldn’t even spare another ten seconds for me. Two minutes later, a notification popped up. An @all message in the company’s general Slack channel. I tapped it open. A congratulatory announcement, written in bold, red font, filled my screen: [BIG NEWS!] A huge congratulations to our own Cody Hayes and CEO Ava Chen on tying the knot today! A match made in heaven! We wish the happy couple a lifetime of love and happiness! Beneath the text was a photo. Cody, in a crisp white suit, had Ava wrapped in his arms, his head bent to kiss her. Her eyes were closed, a blissful smile playing on her lips as she held up two crimson marriage certificates for the camera. The background was unmistakable: the seal of the City Clerk’s office. The channel exploded. Cody’s sycophants were the first to react: “Congratulations, Cody! Congrats, Ms. Chen! This is the best news our company has ever had!” Cody himself quickly posted a voice memo, his tone thick with smug satisfaction. “Wow, thanks everyone. Ava and I were going to keep it low-key, but she insisted we share the joy with our company family. Dinner on me soon, everyone!” The head of HR immediately chimed in: “So generous of you, Cody! This finally puts all those nasty rumors about Ms. Chen’s personal life to rest. Some people need to learn to recognize their place.” He followed it with a winking-face emoji, a digital arrow aimed straight at my heart. I had no intention of engaging, but they weren’t about to let me off that easily. One of Cody’s cronies tagged me directly. “@Ethan Wu, what do you say? As a company veteran, shouldn’t you be the first one to congratulate our CEO and her new husband?” The moment the message appeared, the quiet hum of the office shifted. Heads that had been buried in screens now flickered with furtive glances in my direction. Before I could even react, Cody replied to the comment. “Hey, guys, leave Ethan alone. Let’s not make things awkward for him. He’s probably having a rough day. No need to pressure him.” It was a masterful stroke of passive-aggression, painting himself as the magnanimous victor while publicly confirming I was the one who’d been discarded. And Ava? She posted a single, sterile sentence: “Thank you, everyone. Now, back to work. All project approvals will be handled by Director Wu for the time being.” Her silence on the matter was the most brutal confirmation of all. I wasn’t her partner. I was just a useful tool. I calmly navigated away from the Slack channel. Then I opened my employment portal and electronically signed my own resignation letter. 2 That evening, I took a cab to Ava’s parents’ house. My car, of course, had been commandeered by Ava. The house, a beautiful brownstone in Brooklyn, was one I had bought years ago with every penny I had, intending for it to be our marital home. But Ava had complained it was too far from our Manhattan office. So, she moved her parents in from their small town and had me buy a sleek, modern condo in Midtown. The joke was on me. She continued living in the Brooklyn house with her parents, while the Midtown condo sat empty, off-limits to me. I was renting a small studio apartment near the office. For convenience, she’d said. Now that I was leaving, I felt I owed her parents a final, respectful explanation. With that thought, I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door. The smile on her face vanished the moment she saw me. “Ethan. Is the company not busy? What brings you all the way out here?” Before I could answer, she turned and walked back inside, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “You should learn from Cody. Such a thoughtful boy. He came to visit just the other day, brought us such expensive gifts. And you? You’ve been with Ava all these years and you show up empty-handed.” I froze. Just last week, I’d had a friend bring back a top-of-the-line fishing rod from Japan for her father and a custom-made silk shawl from Italy for her. Had Ava taken credit for those, too? I followed her into the living room. Her father was on the sofa, lovingly polishing the very fishing rod I’d given him. “Mrs. Chen,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “That fishing rod, and the shawl… I had a friend bring those for you. Didn’t Ava tell you?” Her father shot me a cold glare. “That’s enough, Ethan. Ava already told us. They were special gifts from Cody.” He set the rod down pointedly. “Why would you try to steal credit from a younger person like that? It’s pathetic.” Her mother, who had been about to make me tea, put the cup down and shook her head at me with profound disappointment. In their eyes, I was no longer a welcome guest. Just then, the front door opened, and the sound of Ava and Cody’s laughter filled the entryway. “Mom, Dad, we’re home!” Ava walked in, arm-in-arm with Cody, both of them beaming. When Cody saw me, his smile faltered. In a split second, his eyes welled up with tears, and he scurried behind Ava like a frightened child. The shift in the room was instantaneous. The elder Chens’ faces hardened. Her father slammed the fishing rod down on the coffee table with a loud crack. “Ethan, were you bullying Cody? Let me tell you something. I’ve watched that boy grow up. He’s like a son to me. Don’t you dare overstep!” He pointed a shaking finger at the rod. “You say you bought this? Fine. Take it back. We don’t want it. And don’t bother coming through my door again.” “Exactly,” her mother chimed in. “Cody is new to the city. For him to think of buying us such wonderful gifts… it shows his character. And you? You try to claim his good deed as your own. How could we ever trust you with our daughter?” This was all the encouragement Cody needed. His performance began in earnest. “It’s all my fault,” he said, his voice trembling, tears now streaming down his face. “I never should have bought those things. Ethan, please don’t be angry with Mr. and Mrs. Chen. It’s all on me.” He looked tragically toward the door. “I’m clearly just in the way here. I’m taking up your space. I should just… I should leave New York tomorrow.” Ava pulled him into a protective embrace, stroking his hair. “Cody, you don’t have to apologize to him. He’s just being petty and jealous. He can’t stand to see anyone else succeed.” My hands started to shake. I stared at her, my voice low and tight. “Ava. Tell me the truth. Who bought these gifts?” She turned her head, her eyes like chips of ice. “Are you done making a scene, Ethan? Cody bought them.” Then, under her breath, so only I could hear, she hissed, “My parents have high blood pressure. If you upset them, I swear to God, you and I are finished.” She was frantically signaling with her eyes, pleading with me to drop it. In that moment, the truth settled in my bones. I had always been, and would always be, an outsider. Her father grunted, getting to his feet. “We’re having a family discussion here. You should leave.” A family discussion. And I was the only one not part of the family. A flicker of triumph crossed Cody’s face before he masked it with faux concern. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea… Ethan is a guest, after all…” “Ethan,” her father said, ignoring Cody and turning his full attention to me. “Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t think you’re good enough for my daughter. Education? Cody is a graduate of a prestigious international university. Ability? You only have a position at the company because Ava is the CEO. You’re out of your league. Do yourself a favor and leave with some dignity.” A man whose high school diploma was bought online. A company that would have gone bankrupt three times over if not for me. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Your house? This house that I bought with my own money, that you’ve been living in, rent-free, for years? And now you’re telling me I’m not good enough for your daughter?” That struck a nerve. He snatched a teacup from the table and hurled it at the floor. It shattered, sending shards of porcelain flying. A sharp pain bloomed on my forearm. “The deed is in my daughter’s name!” he roared, his face purple with rage. “First the gifts, now the house! Is there anything you won’t try to claim as yours? Get out now, or I’m calling the police!” I looked at the twisted faces of this family and felt nothing but exhaustion. There was no point in fighting anymore. I held Ava’s gaze for a long moment, then turned and walked out the door without another word. She frowned, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, but ultimately, she said nothing. 3 Outside, the night air was sharp and cold against my face. I started walking with no destination in mind, suddenly adrift. The keys to the Midtown condo were with Ava, and I had no desire to go back for them. I’d already terminated the lease on my studio apartment. It looked like I’d be sleeping in my car. I walked to my usual parking spot around the corner, only to find it empty. My Land Rover was gone. Frowning, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ava’s number. It rang for a long time before she finally answered, her voice dripping with annoyance. “What do you want now, Ethan? I thought you left.” I clenched my jaw, forcing the rage down. “Where’s my car?” There was a pause. Then, in a tone of utter entitlement, she said, “Oh, the Land Rover? I gave it to Cody.” It took every ounce of my self-control not to smash the phone against the pavement. “You what? What gives you the right to give my car to him?” “What’s this ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ nonsense?” Her voice shot up an octave. “Can you stop being so damn cheap? Cody just moved to the city. He can’t be taking Ubers everywhere, can he? He’s using your car for business meetings, to generate revenue for the company!” She wasn’t finished. “Besides, didn’t he buy you a new one?” she scoffed. “What’s the big deal about letting him drive a decent car for a change?” A piece-of-junk bicycle. She was actually comparing it to my Land Rover. As if that weren’t enough, she added one more thing, as if it were an afterthought. “Oh, and the Midtown condo was just sitting empty, so I let Cody move in. It’s much more convenient for him than a hotel.” I finally snapped. “You wouldn’t dare!” I roared into the phone. “I bought that place!” A cold, dismissive laugh came from her end. “You bought it? Ethan, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed?” she sneered. “I’ll let whoever I want live there. It’s none of your business.” Her tone shifted again, back to the aggrieved party. “And let me tell you, my dad is furious. He was so upset he smashed that old tea set you kept in the cabinet. If you ever want to speak to me again, you’ll bring an identical one back here tomorrow and apologize.” A pause. “Otherwise, we really are over.” She expected me to come crawling back, just like all the other times. Not this time. My fury was a white-hot flame now. “Ava, confirm something for me,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “The tea set. Was it in a black lacquered box?” “Yeah, that’s the one. Your precious little treasure. Now you’re worried about it? Maybe if you’d had a better attitude, none of this would have happened.” “Ava,” I said, the words feeling like shards of glass in my mouth. “That was my father’s. He left it to me when he died. Surely you haven’t forgotten that.” For the first time, there was a flicker of panic in her voice, but it was quickly buried under her usual arrogance. “I… I didn’t remember. It’s just a tea set. Your dad has been gone for years. It’s not important.” She bulldozed on. “Stop changing the subject. You be here by noon tomorrow with an apology. Do you hear me?” I rubbed my temples, feeling something inside me, some final thread of hope, shatter into a million pieces. “An identical one? That’s going to be impossible.” A dark, humorless smile touched my lips. “You know, I should really thank your idiotic father. He finally made me see your whole family for who you really are.” That did it. “What did you just say?” she shrieked, her voice a hysterical torrent. “Ethan Wu, how dare you! After all the years I’ve wasted on you, you have the nerve to talk to me like that?” The dam broke. “That’s it! We are done! Don’t even bother showing up to work tomorrow. You’re fired!” “Who do you think you are? Who do you think will ever want you after me? You can forget about the houses—you won’t get a single brick. And the car? Don’t even think about it!” She slammed the phone down. I stood on the cold sidewalk and lit a cigarette, the small flame trembling in my hands. I took a long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, trying to calm the storm inside me. Seven years of my life. Two properties. Everything I had. All of it gone, leaving me with nothing. They had even destroyed my father’s last gift to me. This was the end of the line. It was time to bring out the arsenal I had hoped I would never have to use. I looked down at the evidence I had saved on my phone. The last bit of mercy in my heart flickered and died. They wanted to take what was mine. I was going to make them spit it all back out, piece by painful piece.

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“ I’m back. Do you still want me?” The text message glowed on my screen, a ghost from another life. Staring at the words, I felt the past pull at me, a current dragging me under. A hand snatched the phone from my grasp. I looked up to see my husband, Grayson, his brow furrowed in a familiar, impatient line. “What are you doing, looking at my phone?” he demanded. “I told you, Chloe is the only one who matters to me.” I didn’t say anything, which only seemed to irritate him more. “Of course,” he added, a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’m not going to divorce you.” My heart gave a sharp, painful little jump. He’d misunderstood completely. “Grayson,” I said, my voice flat. “That’s my phone you’re holding.” The confidence on his face collapsed. It was replaced by a dark, ugly suspicion. “Who is this man?” 1 I’m back. Do you still want me? That was it. No name, no context. But I didn’t need any. I knew who it was from. Just seeing his name in my mind was enough to make the present fade away. I was lost in a memory so vivid I didn’t even hear Grayson walk up behind me. He ripped the phone from my hands, his expression tightening. “Ava. When did you pick up the charming habit of snooping through other people’s phones?” I saw a flash of genuine disgust in his eyes. In the nearly five years we’d been married, he’d mostly treated me with a cool indifference, a polite disregard. I’d never seen such a raw emotion from him directed at me. “I’ve told you,” he said, his voice clipped. “Chloe is the one who matters.” I blinked, the words echoing strangely. Had he told me? Or had I simply overheard that hushed, frantic phone call, and he’d only “confessed” after he knew he was caught? It wasn’t a confession. It was a notification. An amendment to the terms and conditions of our marriage. When my silence stretched on, he sighed, as if granting a great concession. “And I’m not going to divorce you, obviously.” A muscle in my jaw twitched. The depth of his self-absorption was almost impressive. I couldn’t resist. “You’re holding my phone.” He swiped up, his thumb moving across the screen. There was only the one message. The sleek black case, the screen protector… it wasn’t his phone. Grayson’s face soured. “Who is this man?” 2 I knew that in moments like this, any hint of evasion would only feed Grayson’s suspicion. So I gave him the truth, or at least part of it. “My ex, I think.” His hand tightened around my phone, the knuckles white. I had to gently remind him again before he returned it to me. It was an easy mistake to make. We had identical phones, the same models, the same cases. And, ironically, the message was a mirror image of our own drama. His Chloe, his great lost love, had sent him the exact same text a year ago. I’m back. Do you still want me? What a coincidence. The only difference was the date stamp, a tiny line of text easily overlooked. Grayson had been on his way out, but now he seemed to have changed his mind. He sank onto the edge of the sofa, assuming an air of casual inquiry that didn’t fool me for a second. “He’s your ex?” Even though I’d already told him, I nodded. “My ex.” My first love, actually. The boy next door. My fiancé, once upon a time, in a childhood pact that felt more real than this marriage ever had. “How long were you together?” “A little over a year.” If you only count from the first kiss, that was true. “When did you break up?” “2019.” The year before I married Grayson. Time flies. It was hard to believe Grayson and I were approaching our fifth anniversary. I saw the tension leave his shoulders. He was relaxing, deciding this ghost from the past was no real threat. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up, isn’t it? We should go…” “Does your offer to let me see other people still stand?” We both spoke at the exact same time, our words colliding in the quiet room. A stunned silence followed. Grayson stared down at the tips of his expensive Italian loafers, his thoughts a closed book. I decided to break the standoff. “What were you saying? We should go where?” “To the family estate,” he said. “Oh.” Of course. A family obligation. For a foolish second, I’d thought he meant a trip, a celebration for us. Good thing I hadn’t let that thought take root. Silence fell again. I studied his profile, half-cast in the shadows from the window. No expression. No emotion. I took a breath and decided to push. “The offer you made. About us… seeing other people. Does it still stand?” 3 He’d said it two months ago, during a particularly nasty fight. He was tired of my questions, my accusations. He’d finally snapped. “Can you just stop watching my every move?” he’d spat out. “For God’s sake, Ava, go find someone else to keep you busy. We can have an arrangement.” At the time, the words had stolen the air from my lungs. I felt like I was suffocating. Now, strangely, I felt a flicker of gratitude for his cruelty. Time really is a master storyteller. It breaks you, but if you learn to bend with it, it can offer the most unexpected gifts. A dry, mirthless laugh escaped Grayson’s lips. “Yes. Of course, it stands.” He stood up and strode toward the door. His hand was on the handle when he paused. He didn’t turn around, but his voice carried back to me, clear and cold. “I meant what I said. We can have an arrangement.” A beat. “But you are still my wife. Mrs. Hawke. Just… be discreet.” “Okay,” I replied, my voice meek and agreeable. I’d use him as my benchmark. It’s not like I was planning on setting off fireworks across the city for someone, or getting into a brawl at a gala over them. He turned then, his eyes narrowing. “And you’d better make sure he understands the situation. That you’re a married woman.” “The last thing our families need is some messy scandal.” I nodded. He was right. I would tell him. I watched Grayson, but he still didn’t leave. He just stood there, watching me. “Is there anything else?” I asked. His fingers tapped an unconscious, rhythmic beat against the seam of his trousers. “What’s his name?” he asked, adding quickly, “I’m not trying to be… I just don’t want you to get taken advantage of.” I cut him off before he could finish the lie. “Leo Hayes.” “Hayes? From Hayes Innovations? Patrick Hayes’s son?” “I believe so.” I didn’t know if he was the CEO of Hayes Innovations now, but I knew his father’s name was Patrick. This time, Grayson didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and left without a backward glance. 4 I will be reframing this chapter to maintain Ava’s first-person perspective, as per the project’s core instructions for an immersive experience. Sitting alone in the sudden silence of the foyer, I could practically hear the gears turning in Grayson’s head as he walked to his car. A knot of irritation was probably tightening in his chest, a feeling without a clear source. But then he would think of Leo Hayes, and a sense of relief would wash over him. He knew Leo, or at least knew of him. They’d crossed paths once or twice at some benefit or another. Leo had a reputation. He came from old money but had built his own tech empire from the ground up. He had the looks, the pedigree, the ambition—a man who was, in every measurable way, Grayson’s equal. More importantly, a man like Leo Hayes had pride. Principles. He wouldn’t send a message like that if he knew I was married. Men like that don’t become the other man. They don’t involve themselves in sordid affairs that have no winning outcome. And besides, he would tell himself, Ava simply doesn’t have that kind of pull. She isn’t the kind of woman a man like Leo Hayes would risk his reputation for. His phone would buzz then. It would be Chloe. He’d promised to take her to that new restaurant downtown tonight, the one with the six-month waitlist. He’d let it ring three times before answering. “Something came up,” he’d say, his voice softening. “I’ll have to take you next time.” And Chloe, though disappointed, would be understanding. She would tell him to take care of his business and that she’d be waiting. See? he would think, ending the call. That’s the kind of woman I love. Someone sweet and gentle, someone who soothes and supports. Not someone sharp and demanding like Ava, who always has to pick at the seams of things until they unravel. 5 After a long time, I decided to text him back. Leo? Is that you? The reply took so long I was sure it would never come. It’s me. Our breakup had been ugly. He’d seen my choice as the ultimate betrayal. He left the country immediately after and hadn’t been back since. I truly believed we would never speak again, that we would live and die as strangers. It took me a full year after he left to even begin to feel whole again. And then I married Grayson. In the beginning, I was intoxicated by him. He had a gravity, a charisma that pulled all of my attention, making me forget so many of my troubles. I thought, for a while, that I was really falling in love with him. But in the fourth year of our marriage, his great lost love returned. Her name was Chloe. It’s the oldest story in the book. Her family had been paid off by the Hawkes to disappear, to leave Grayson free for a more… suitable match. When she returned and told Grayson the whole tearful story, every rule he lived by evaporated. The day I confronted him about Chloe, he told me without a flicker of hesitation that she was the most important person in his life. That if she had never been forced to leave, I would never have had the chance to marry him in the first place. A single frightened look from her was enough to turn Grayson into a weapon aimed directly at my throat. It was as if our three years of relative happiness had never existed. But we never mentioned divorce. We couldn’t. After five years of marriage, the business dealings between the Hawke and Sterling families were a tangled web six years in the making. The real-world consequences were far more complicated than either of us wanted to deal with. An arrangement, though? That was different. In our circle, affairs were practically a currency. They didn’t threaten the bottom line. Still, my fingers trembled over the screen. I had changed so much. I had no idea who Leo was anymore. I’m married. The words felt like tiny shards of glass as I typed them. The wait for his reply was agonizing. A single question mark appeared. I bit my lip, my mind racing. Finally, I just took a screenshot of the message he’d sent and sent it to him. What did you mean by this? The tension was unbearable. I started typing, my thumbs fumbling. Even though I’m married, my husband and I don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. Before I could finish, an image popped up from him. It was a screenshot of his phone. The screen was empty. There was no “I’m back. Do you still want me?” A wave of nausea washed over me. It was a misunderstanding. I scrambled to delete the humiliating sentence I’d been typing, but my eyes were suddenly blurry with tears. In my panic, my thumb hit send. I wiped my eyes and frantically held down the message, hitting “unsend.” A few seconds later, a new message from him came through. We were playing Truth or Dare this afternoon. My buddy Monk probably grabbed my phone and sent that, then deleted it. I had no idea. I’m sorry if it caused any trouble for you. 6 It wasn’t just disappointment. It was a deep, searing shame. How arrogant was I to think he’d come back for me? That he would want a woman who had shattered his heart and was now trapped in a sham of a marriage? Just because my own morals had been worn down to nothing didn’t mean his had. What was I doing? I typed out an apology, my cheeks burning. Sorry. My mistake. Leo didn’t reply. I couldn’t stand being in this house, this empty museum of a life. I drove to the lounge I always went to and started ordering drinks, one after another. Through a hazy blur, I saw a familiar figure moving toward me. He walked with a purpose, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. It looked like Leo, but it couldn’t be. The man I knew would never look at me with such a cold, impenetrable expression. I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was waking up somewhere unfamiliar. I sat up, my head throbbing, and my eyes met Leo’s. He was sitting on the balcony, bathed in the morning light. He was wearing a light gray dress shirt, two buttons undone, offering just a hint of his collarbone. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms with lean, defined muscles. And a long, thin scar that hadn’t been there before. Five years. His face was the same, but time had chiseled away the last of his boyish softness, replacing it with a quiet, magnetic confidence. He was the kind of man who commanded attention even when he was perfectly still. You can tell a lot about a person’s life by looking at them. Leo had clearly done well for himself. He was the first to look away. I realized I’d been staring, far past the point of politeness. I slipped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. When I came out, he was standing with his back to me, looking down at the city below. “Leo, thank you for not leaving me there last night.” My memories were fuzzy, but I remembered enough to know I’d drunkenly latched onto him, refusing to let go. He’d brought me here because he had no other choice. He turned around. “Don’t mention it. I’d do the same for a stranger.” The meaning was clear: Don’t get any ideas. I managed a weak smile. “Well, I should go. I won’t bother you anymore.” I had only taken a few steps when he stopped me. “You need to settle your tab from last night.” Right. The drinks. He must have paid. I pulled out my phone, but when I tried to scan his code, I realized it was a contact request, not a payment QR. “I have a policy about not accepting money from anonymous sources,” he said, his face impassive as he accepted my friend request. Did he always have that policy? I doubted it. But five years is a long time. People change. “So, um, how much do I owe you?” “Seven thousand, five hundred and sixty dollars.” My fingers froze. That couldn’t be right. As if reading my mind, he added, “That includes the cost of my suit.” The memory sharpened with a cringe. I’d thrown up on him. Our first time seeing each other in five years, and I’d ended it by vomiting on his designer suit. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I never wanted to see him again. I rounded the number up and transferred him eight thousand dollars, then practically ran for the door. 7 I was exhausted—physically and emotionally. I got home, showered again, and collapsed into bed. I was hovering in that space between sleep and waking when I heard the bedroom door open. It was Grayson. He was the only one who ever came in while I was sleeping. I heard his footsteps, the sound bringing me to full, alert consciousness. He stopped beside the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, a heavy, scrutinizing gaze. I focused on keeping my breathing slow and even. Every sound was amplified in the stillness. The soft rustle of fabric. The quiet click as he picked up my phone from the nightstand. He knew my passcode; I’d never changed it. It was pathetically easy for him to unlock it. He scrolled for a moment, then stopped. He’d found what he was looking for. I didn’t have any secrets on my phone. I had no idea what he was so desperate to see. After a moment of silence, a low, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Just as I thought,” he murmured to himself. “Who does she think he is?” “She really needs a reality check.” He placed the phone back on the nightstand, the quiet thud echoing in the room. He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Only then did I dare to move, curling into a tight ball and pulling the duvet around me. I knew exactly what he’d been looking at. My conversation with Leo. She really needs a reality check. I repeated the words to myself, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I couldn’t name the feeling twisting in my gut. It was like he’d found the most private, vulnerable corner of my heart and ripped it open for his own amusement. I was more proud than I realized, and his scorn hurt more than I wanted to admit. Tears soaked my pillow before I even realized I was crying. My phone buzzed a few times. I ignored it. A moment later, it started ringing. A phone call. It rang, and rang, and rang. Furious, I snatched it from the nightstand. The screen read: LEO HAYES. I wiped my tears, took a few deep breaths to compose myself, and finally answered. “What is it?” I asked. His voice was different. “What’s wrong with your voice?” I lied instinctively. “Nothing, just a bit of a cold. What’s up?” Silence stretched on the other end of the line. “You left something here,” he finally said. “You need to come get it. Tonight.” He hung up and immediately sent an address, not even giving me a chance to refuse. 8 Leo hadn’t done anything wrong. That’s what I kept telling myself. He wasn’t the same boy who had offered me unconditional love and acceptance. I was the one who needed to adjust my expectations. I pulled myself together. Before I got to the address he’d sent—a sleek, modern downtown condo—I checked my reflection in the car mirror and practiced a relaxed, easy smile. We were childhood friends, after all. We knew each other inside and out. Acting like strangers would be more suspicious than just being normal. I brought a gift with me, a peace offering. It was a set of hand-carved alabaster chess pieces. Leo didn’t have many hobbies, but chess was one of them. I knew he’d had his eye on a set just like this before he left the country. I saw the flicker of surprise and delight in his eyes before he could hide it. I knew he’d like it. “For me?” he asked. I nodded, maintaining my gentle smile. He picked up one of the pieces, the cool white stone a stark contrast to his long, tanned fingers. It suited him. “A strategic gift,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Are you making a move, Ava?” I looked up sharply. A move? Seeing my expression, he just gave a slight, unreadable smile. I decided I was overthinking it. It was just an offhand comment. “So,” I said, changing the subject. “What did I leave here?” He pulled out his phone and, right in front of me, opened his banking app. He transferred back the extra money I’d sent him. $440 I was completely bewildered. If it was just about the money, why make me come all the way down here? He took a sip of water. “I prefer to handle transactions in person.” Four hundred and forty dollars. He could have made a hundred times that in the time it took me to drive here. Still, I nodded as if this made perfect sense. As I turned to leave, he finally got to the real point. “You have your money back. But now you owe me a favor.” I nodded again. Fair enough. “Come with me to a gala.” I froze, then cleared my throat. “Leo, everyone who matters in this city knows I’m Grayson Hawke’s wife.” He didn’t seem to think this was a problem. “And everyone who matters in this city also knows that you were my childhood sweetheart.” He had a point. If we were open about it, I guess it wouldn’t look like we were hiding anything. The car ride was silent. It wasn’t until we stepped out in front of the grand hotel ballroom that he paused. He looked down at me, then at my arm. I understood. I looped my arm through his. We had barely stepped through the doors when we ran into the last person on earth I wanted to see. Grayson’s face was a thundercloud as his eyes locked onto my hand resting on Leo’s arm. But he wasn’t alone. Chloe was clinging to his other arm, her victory barely concealed. He’d been parading her around at these events for the past year, passing her off as his “secretary” as the thinnest of veils. So why did he look so furious now? He looked like he was seconds away from losing his composure in front of everyone. I didn’t remove my arm. Instead, fueled by a sudden spike of defiance, I gave Leo’s bicep a little squeeze. Definitely more toned than Grayson’s. He blocked our path. “Mr. Hawke,” Leo said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Is there a problem?” Grayson’s eyes were only for me. He reached out to grab my arm, but Leo shifted, blocking him. My husband took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he hissed. “Unless you want to make a scene that embarrasses both of us.” I glanced around. A few people were already starting to notice. Grayson and Chloe were a known quantity. But this… this was new. He was the man, the powerful CEO. He could get away with it. I couldn’t. I sighed. “Leo and I grew up together,” I explained, my voice low. “Most of the people here know that. It’s not what you think.” Grayson let out a cold snort. “Right. ‘Childhood sweethearts.’” I ignored his sarcasm and tried to steer Leo in another direction. But Grayson moved again, blocking us. He wasn’t going to let this go. Fine. If he wanted a confrontation, he would get one. “Outside,” I said.

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I ran into my husband’s first love at a job fair. She was clutching a resume with a five-year gap, a ghost from a life she’d left behind. She looked lost, wilting under the sharp questions of our company’s HR rep. And I was the hiring director for the day. I asked her a few standard questions. Her eyes darted past me, searching for Alex, who was sitting by my side. He gave her a placid, reassuring smile. “Just answer the questions. Our hiring director is very professional.” But the moment we left the event floor, he turned on me. “What was that? Why all the questions? Were you trying to prove something?” 1. I honestly didn’t see it coming. The second the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize his mistake. He shot me a cautious look, then added awkwardly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t think we need to make things harder for a woman who’s been a stay-at-home mom for five years.” If he hadn’t added that last part, I might have let it go. An old flame shows up, things get a little weird—for people our age, it should have been a non-event. But that little addendum, that clumsy justification, left a sour taste in my mouth. Because I replayed the entire conversation in my head, and I couldn’t find a single moment where I’d been out of line. My questions had been perfectly ordinary. “Could you explain the five-year gap on your resume?” “Why are you looking for a position outside of your academic field?” “What interests you about our company specifically?” Her answers had been halting, evasive, each pause a small window into a life of quiet hardship. I looked at him, my expression flat. “So you think I was giving her a hard time? Did a single one of my questions fall outside the scope of my job?” “No,” he mumbled, his anger deflating into something else. “I overreacted. I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal. It just feels like… like one of life’s little ironies, you know? It’s just a lot to take in.” An irony. Yeah, you could call it that. No one ever thought the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, Alex Zhou, would become a successful entrepreneur. Just like no one ever thought the golden girl of our high school, Leah, would end up a cautionary tale. And absolutely no one, least of all me, ever thought Alex would end up marrying me—the girl who couldn’t stand her. 2. It should have been a cliché story. But when you’re the one living in it, the plot twists still feel breathtaking. Alex and I grew up together. I had a silent, hopeless crush on him for years. But he fell for Leah Xiang, the daughter my father’s new trophy wife brought with her into our home. Leah had her mother’s eyes—the kind that could charm a snake or a man with equal ease. Those years were a blur of misery. I lost my father’s affection and any hope of Alex’s, all in one fell swoop. Eventually, my father and her mother divorced. Alex and Leah broke up. And Alex and I lost touch completely. Years later, a headhunter set up a meeting. The role was at a promising startup. The founder, they said, was a man named Alex Zhou. We met again. This time, it was different. We worked together, side-by-side, building something from nothing. A new kind of affection grew, something steadier and more real than a teenage crush. One day, we decided to spend the rest of our lives together. It was the fastest, and surest, decision I’d ever made. Our marriage had been smooth sailing, a constant affirmation that I’d made the right choice. Until now. The silence in the car was thick and uncomfortable. He kept glancing at me, but I refused to speak. I hadn’t created this awkwardness; I wasn’t going to be the one to fix it. Alex knows me too well. He tried again. “Nina, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “It was a stupid thing to say. Can you forgive me? I promise I’ll never speak to you like that again.” It was an easy promise to make. Alex probably didn’t realize then how many times he would break it, again and again, until I finally had nothing left to give. But in that moment, I let it go. I’ve never been one to hold a grudge. It’s probably one of the things he’s always liked about me—how comfortable I am to be around. 3. A few days later, I was in my office, sorting through the final candidates for the open position. Somehow, Leah’s resume was in the pile. I was sure I had filtered it out in the initial screening. It was still the same unimpressive document, practically useless. Her degree and her scant work experience were completely irrelevant to any of the roles we were hiring for. I called in my assistant, Sarah. “Did anyone come into my office today?” She looked confused. “I didn’t see anyone, Nina. Is something wrong? Is something missing?” I shook my head, holding up Leah’s resume. “Something was added. You did the initial screening, right?” “Yes.” “I remember we discarded this one. Leah Xiang. Why is it back on my desk?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Oh, that one. Mr. Zhou brought it by. He said to make sure she gets an interview.” My silence was a question she felt compelled to answer. “He said he wouldn’t interfere with the final decision, but that we had to at least give her a chance in the process.” I didn’t say anything. Sarah mumbled, more to herself than to me, “He said that, but we can’t actually just go through the motions, can we? The thing is, her resume doesn’t fit any of the department openings. I have no idea where to even place her for an interview.” A cool, thin smile touched my lips. “Then do exactly what Alex said. We follow the normal process. Send her resume to all the department heads. If someone picks her, she gets an interview. If not…” Sarah’s eyes lit up. “If no one chooses her, the resume just goes back into the general pool. It’s all by the book, and no one has to make a difficult decision.” She gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s why you’re the boss.” That night, Alex was restless. He kept pacing, starting sentences he didn’t finish. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I put Leah’s resume back in the pile. Did you see it?” “I did,” I said, my voice even. “Can I ask why? You know she isn’t qualified for any of our openings. You’re interfering with my work, Alex.” 4. He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “Look, I wasn’t going to. But she’s in a really bad place, Nina. I thought we could find some small, unimportant role for her. Something to help her get by.” My laugh was short and sharp. “I had no idea you were such a philanthropist. When did you two get back in touch? Before the job fair, or after?” “After,” he said immediately. “I swear. We haven’t spoken in years. Running into her that day was a complete shock to us both.” “We?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s we?” He corrected himself. “I mean, it was a shock for me. And for you. For us to see her there. It was just a coincidence.” He took a breath. “She came by the office to see you a couple of times, but you were out. I ran into her one of those times.” “She came to see me?” I asked, skeptical. “I never got a message. Sarah never scheduled a meeting. Are you sure she was there to see me? Or was she just waiting for the right person to show up?” Alex was quick to defend her. “She’s not like that, Nina. She’s not a schemer. She wouldn’t do something so roundabout.” “And if she really wanted to see me,” he added, a little too quickly, “she could have just made an appointment. Why go to all that trouble?” “So what is it you want to talk about tonight, Alex? Let’s just get to the point.” He seemed to have rehearsed this part. The words tumbled out. “Put her in the finance department. She told me she’s studying for her accounting certification. She can start as a cashier.” I almost laughed out loud. “And that’s what you call an ‘unimportant role’?” My sarcasm must have stung. His tone hardened. “So what are you saying? That I don’t have the right to hire a single person in my own company?” 5. I just stood there, staring at him. He looked like my husband, but a stranger was looking out of his eyes. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Finally, I gave him the answer he was waiting for. “You win.” Relief washed over his face. He smiled, pulling me into a hug and whispering into my hair. “Look, your dad called me about it, too. Said she was your stepsister once, after all. If I didn’t do something, it would look cold.” The mention of my father sent a familiar chill down my spine. You always trip over the same stone. It was true for my father. Maybe it was true for Alex, too. “Why didn’t you just lead with that? That my father asked you to?” He chuckled, stroking my hair. “I was trying not to. I know how you two get. You’d just end up in another fight, and let’s be honest, he’s sent a lot of business our way over the years. You can afford to hold a grudge. I can’t.” He pulled back to look me in the eye, his expression serious. “Now that you’ve agreed, don’t start anything with him. Let’s just let this go. I promise you, she’ll stay in that entry-level job and that’s it. No promotions. This is our company, Nina. I would never let anyone threaten that.” His words were firm, absolute. They reminded me of the promises my father made at my mother’s bedside as she was dying. He’d sworn to God he would never remarry. That he would spend the rest of his life taking care of me, his only daughter. When men make vows, they always believe they mean them. My father’s vow lasted less than four years. Two years after my mother’s death, his business started to take off. There were always women around, but he kept his promise not to marry. Until Leah’s mother appeared. He practically stumbled over himself to welcome her into his life, to share everything he had with her. She moved in on the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death. So, what about Alex? How long would his promise last? Could I really trust him? 6. For a long time after that, Alex was the perfect husband. He was even more attentive than usual, as if trying to soothe a guilty conscience I hadn’t accused him of having. We fell into a rhythm that felt like a second honeymoon, and he seemed happier, more vibrant than he had in years. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, Alex stopped visiting the finance department entirely. Any issues were handled through his assistant. But the human mind is a strange thing. The more he went out of his way to avoid her, the more I felt a creeping sense of unease beneath all the renewed affection. A man who has truly let go of the past doesn’t need to work so hard to prove it. One afternoon, I had a proposal that needed his signature. It was almost the end of the day, so I went up to his office to catch him before he left. He wasn’t there. His assistant stammered, saying he was “out on an errand.” “An errand?” I asked, puzzled. “Why didn’t you go with him? Did he drive himself? He didn’t say anything to me.” We usually commuted together, sharing a car. If one of us had a change of plans, we always let the other know. But my phone was silent. The assistant suddenly looked more confident. “He’s generally back before closing. Why don’t you wait for him in your office?” As I walked down the stairs, her words echoed in my head. Generally? That meant this wasn’t the first time. Our company didn’t have many external matters that required the CEO’s personal attention. And he had certainly never mentioned any of them to me. I glanced at my watch, and an idea sparked. I walked straight to the parking garage. It was 5:10 PM, twenty minutes before most of the offices in our building let out. The garage was full, but still. One car stood out. It was a large SUV. A common model, but the color was a custom order. It had been my birthday gift to him. Its headlights were on, illuminating the two people sitting very close inside. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they didn’t even notice me as I walked past the passenger-side window. The car’s soundproofing was good, but I could hear snippets of their voices, fragmented and low. Urgent. And intimate. 7. I didn’t really need to hear what they were saying. Or maybe I just didn’t care anymore. But when he reached out and pulled her into a hug, I felt it. Heartbreak, it turns out, actually makes a sound. It’s like the shattering of glass on a tile floor. A sharp, clear crack, and by the time you look down to find the source, the pieces are already scattered and unrecognizable. But I am not the kind of woman who curls up and disappears. If I was going to be in pain, I wasn’t going to suffer alone. I walked to the driver’s side and tapped my knuckles sharply on the window. I had the satisfaction of watching two figures spring apart as if electrocuted.

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On my birthday, my girlfriend, the undisputed queen bee of Manhattan’s elite, bailed on me again. This time, to hand out flyers for a foot massage parlor. “You’re loaded,” I said, barely containing my anger. “Do you really have to play this ‘poor girl’ game?” Jennifer’s voice turned to ice. “I told you, I’m buying a gift for Leo with my own hard-earned money. And speaking of which, you need to get down to the spa right now, Asher. I signed you up for a shift. We’re still a few hundred bucks short for his new laptop.” I nearly ground my teeth to dust. “I’m done playing this game, Jennifer. We’re over. The engagement is off.” 1 I hung up, but Jennifer’s calls kept coming, one after another, like a death knell. I finally blocked her number out of sheer frustration. My friend stared at me, his eyes wide. “Dude, Jennifer actually called you, and you hung up on her?” Everyone in our circle knew I was Jennifer’s lapdog. I’d chased her for over a decade, and she only agreed to marry me because our families insisted on a merger. For years, she was the center of my universe, but I could never melt her frozen heart. I was tired. I raised my glass with a smile. “Here’s to my birthday, and to being single again!” The words landed like a lead weight. The private room fell silent, everyone frozen in place. Suddenly, the door swung open. “Asher, you snake! You scored a free night in the VIP suite and didn’t even invite us?” Jennifer breezed in, dragging a slightly awkward-looking Leo with her. In a room full of designer clothes and old money, Jennifer’s twenty-dollar fast-fashion t-shirt and Leo’s generic sneakers stuck out like a sore thumb. But instantly, the entire room shifted gears. Conversations about yachts and Michelin-starred restaurants morphed into debates over the best takeout deals, everyone playing along with Jennifer’s charade. My eyes immediately locked onto the Omega watch on Leo’s wrist. The same one I’d bought with the money I’d earned driving for Uber after my day job and pulling all-nighters on freelance projects. Leo noticed my gaze and asked with faux innocence, “Hey, Asher, you’re not mad, are you? That Jennifer used the money you worked so hard for to buy me this watch?” I scoffed and looked at Jennifer. She didn’t say a word to shut down his obvious provocation. Instead, she soothed him. “Don’t worry about it, Leo. The gifts I give you are bought with my money. No one else has a right to be upset.” It was clear who Manhattan’s queen bee favored. My so-called friends immediately fell in line. “Yeah, Leo, don’t sweat it. Jennifer can spoil whoever she wants.” “You’ve got great style, man!” “We’re all Jennifer’s friends, so we’re your friends. Anything you need, just ask.” A wave of bitterness washed over me. Some of the people fawning over him were my childhood friends, guys I’d known for twenty years. But two decades of friendship meant nothing against the queen bee’s affection for her pet project. Just then, the waiter wheeled in the massive custom cake I’d ordered. I was about to blow out the candles, a small act of catharsis, when I heard Leo’s ridiculously exaggerated gasp behind me. “Whoa! I’ve never seen a cake this big! Asher, can I make a wish and blow out the candles? Can I cut it?” I gritted my teeth, blew out the candles in one sharp breath, and took the knife from the waiter. “No.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected me to refuse him. “Asher, you’re being so cheap! It’s just a cake! What’s the big deal if Leo cuts it?” “Yeah, man, you won’t even do that for Jennifer’s friend?” “Don’t worry, Leo. Next time, we’ll all chip in and get you an even bigger one!” Even my best friend called me stingy. And Leo, the cause of it all, just stood there looking innocent. “It’s fine if Asher doesn’t want to. It’s no big deal.” “Of course it’s a big deal if Leo wants it!” Jennifer strode over and snatched the knife from my hand. She moved so fast that the tip of the blade sliced my cheek. A sharp, stinging pain, followed by beads of blood. Someone bumped into me, and I stumbled back. The crowd swarmed around Leo, cheering him on as he prepared to cut the cake. I was pushed to the periphery. It was my goddamn birthday. My fists clenched. The anger boiled over. I pushed through the crowd and, with all my strength, flipped the entire cake onto the floor. My eyes were burning as I stared at Jennifer. “I’m done with this act!” She lunged to cover my mouth, but the words were already out. “If you and Leo want to play at being poor—” She clamped her hand over my mouth, her eyes darting nervously to Leo. When she saw that his expression hadn’t changed, that he apparently hadn’t heard, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she dragged me into a corner. “Asher,” she hissed, her voice a low threat, “if you say one more word, we are done. Don’t think this engagement gives you a free pass to do whatever you want.” The coldness in her eyes pierced me to the bone. The years of love I’d given her felt like a pathetic joke. I nodded forcefully. Only then did she release me. I gasped for air. “Jennifer, we’re already done. Whatever you and Leo do from now on has nothing to do with me.” She stared at me for a second, then scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Don’t be so dramatic, Asher. You’ve been playing hard to get for twenty years. Can’t you come up with something new? You were the one who was dying to marry me. You really think I’m going to believe you want to break up?” I saw the impatience in her eyes and just laughed. Before I could say anything else, Leo walked over, a worried frown on his face. “Jennifer, there’s a problem with the New Peak proposal. The boss wants me to go back to the office and fix it now.” He looked down at his clothes. “But my shirt got cake on it.” When Jennifer looked at him, her expression softened with a warmth I’d never seen directed at me. She gently wiped a smudge of frosting from his cheek. “Don’t worry, Leo. It’s okay.” Her eyes then flicked to me, her voice once again imperious. “Asher, you go back to the office and fix the New Peak proposal.” “Why should I do his work? It’s my birthday. I’m on vacation. It’s his job, he can do it.” Jennifer’s face darkened. “You have thirty minutes to get back to the office.” She scanned the room, her voice a whip crack. “Birthday’s over. Everybody out.” The room went silent. Thirty seconds later, I was alone in the trashed suite. I touched the cut on my cheek and winced. Being with Jennifer was like this. Getting close to her always meant getting hurt. This painful relationship should have ended a long time ago. Since we were broken up, there was no reason for me to stay at the family company, playing at being a low-level employee. The study abroad plans I’d postponed for years were finally back on the table. I leaned back on the sofa and submitted my resignation through the company portal. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable angry phone call from Jennifer, rejecting my resignation. But it never came. Instead, I opened my phone to see that Jennifer, from her desk in the executive suite, had approved it. She was even more ruthless than I’d imagined. I let out a bitter laugh. Well, if she wanted a clean break, so did I. I drove to the office to pack my things. To keep up the “poor” charade, my desk only held a cheap mug and a framed photo of me and Jennifer on our first day working in the trenches. At first, I thought we were genuinely experiencing what it was like for our employees. Jennifer was earning a pittance but still insisted on treating me to expensive dinners. We lived in a rundown rental, messing around like any other recent college grads—broke but happy. I thought that after twenty years, I had finally won her heart. I never imagined she was only there to get close to Leo. I tore the photo to shreds and threw it in the trash. As I packed my few belongings, a familiar, cloying voice called out. “Asher, you’re really leaving?” It was Leo, his surprise as fake as his sneakers. I rolled my eyes and walked past him without a word. He darted in front of me and then, as if on cue, let out a yelp and crumpled to the floor. Jennifer came running, immediately fussing over him. Seeing that he was unharmed, she rounded on me. “Asher, why did you push Leo? Apologize to him right now!” Leo tugged on her sleeve, biting his lip. “Jennifer, don’t be mad. Asher didn’t mean to push me. He’s just stressed about the New Peak proposal.” At the mention of the proposal, her face went cold. “Where is it? Why haven’t you submitted it yet?” “I resigned yesterday, Jennifer. Find someone else to do it,” I said, my voice tight, and started to walk away. “Stop!” She grabbed my wrist. “Company proposals are confidential. How do we know you didn’t steal it?” A crowd of coworkers gathered, and my face burned with humiliation. I emptied my bag onto the floor. “Then by all means, Team Leader, take your time and inspect everything. I don’t want the bag or anything in it.” I turned and left, ignoring her shouts and accusations. Back at the apartment we’d shared for over a year, I opened my laptop. I unfollowed her on every platform, changed the desktop background from our photo, and deleted a terabyte’s worth of pictures of us. After packing a few essentials into my smallest suitcase, I was ready to go. There was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Jennifer, who was always forgetting her keys, I opened it. It was Leo. He slipped past me before I could react. His eyes scanned the matching pajamas on the clothes rack, the two worn-out indentations on the old sofa. He saw the wall covered in our photos, and his eyes turned red with jealousy. He strode over and started tearing them down. “Don’t think she loves you, Asher,” he sneered, kicking over our laundry rack. “What woman would let the man she loves suffer? She made you play this game with her, but she saved up to buy me anything I wanted.” He kicked over our small folding table, his face a mask of triumph. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “You knew she was faking it?” He looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s been on the cover of Forbes, Asher. Everyone knows who she is.” His expression hardened. “Jennifer is mine. Don’t fight me for her, or I’ll make sure you lose everything.” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in your trash.” I glanced at the wrecked apartment, feeling nothing but a desire to leave. I picked up my suitcase and headed down the stairs. Two steps down, I was shoved hard from behind. I stumbled, and the world became a blur of motion as I tumbled down the staircase. I looked up to see Leo at the top of the stairs, a cruel smile on his face. Then, his expression changed. He deliberately tripped and fell, landing next to me. Seconds later, Jennifer appeared. She gently helped Leo to his feet, checking him for injuries before her eyes finally fell on my bleeding forehead. Her expression softened, and she started to help me up. But then Leo started to cry. “Jennifer, I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t want to come between you and Asher.” At his words, she instantly dropped me and rushed to his side, cooing and comforting him. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with murderous rage. “Asher, what is your problem? Why do you keep bullying Leo? Do you really think I can’t do anything to you, or your family?” She helped Leo to his feet. “Leo, don’t listen to his jealous ramblings. Let’s go to the hospital.” Leo didn’t move. His voice was choked with tears. “Jennifer… Asher said you’re the queen bee of Manhattan. Is that true?” Jennifer flinched. She forced a calm she didn’t feel. “What? Of course not. Don’t listen to him.” “He also said I’m only with you for your money. That I’m not good enough for you, and that he’s the one who’s in your league.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry, Asher… Jennifer, I think… I think I’m really in love with you.” Jennifer’s whole body trembled. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Leo,” she whispered, “I love you too.” She glanced at me as if I were a roadblock to their happiness. “Asher is just paranoid. He’s just saying that to upset you.” Leo’s tear-filled eyes brightened. “Really?” “Have I ever lied to you?” After soothing him, she turned her icy gaze back to me, her jaw clenched. “Asher!” The veins in her neck bulged, her eyes were bloodshot. Her voice was a low growl. “There’s a limit to how jealous you can be!” She looked down at me on the floor, then helped Leo step over my body and walk away. I pushed myself up, my whole body aching, and dragged my injured leg out to the street to hail a cab to the hospital. In the emergency room, as a doctor cleaned the gash on my forehead, I saw a group of nurses whispering by the door. “That’s the queen bee’s fiancé. He must have pissed her off.” “She’s in the room across the hall with her new boy-toy, getting him a full check-up. She’s so worried about him.” “I bet the boy-toy is the future king of Manhattan.” They giggled and then flocked into the room across the hall. After my wound was stitched and dressed, I lay in a hospital bed, booked a one-way ticket to Paris for that night, and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I sensed a presence. Jennifer was standing by my bed, her face dark. “Leo wants to break up with me,” she said, her voice tight. “Are you happy now?” Her fists were clenched, her eyes blazing. She grabbed my shirt and dragged me out of the bed. I hit the floor hard, the pain in my head exploding. “You’re going to go to Leo and tell him you made it all up. Tell him I’m not some rich girl, that you lied about everything.” Seeing her so frantic, I couldn’t help but laugh. She was being played just as much as I had been. My laughter seemed to push her over the edge. She started dragging me out of the room. “Jennifer, let go of me! I didn’t tell him any of that! He knew who you were from the beginning!” She stopped, her eyes like chips of ice. “Still trying to slander him, even now?” She dragged me to Leo’s bedside and threw me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of the smug, triumphant look in Leo’s eyes before he arranged his face into a mask of wounded innocence for Jennifer. She gently stroked his hair. “Asher,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “tell me why you made up this story to trick Leo.” I just smiled, a sad, tired smile. My flight was in a few hours. I didn’t want any more drama. I looked at Leo. “You’re right. I made it all up. Jennifer is just a regular intern.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. Seeing that Jennifer had calmed down, I said, “Can I go now?” She seemed to snap out of a trance, a flicker of something I couldn’t identify—panic?—in her eyes. I left the hospital and went straight to the airport. At the gate, my phone buzzed with messages from a new number. It was Jennifer. “Asher, where are you?” “I booked a suite at the Plaza. Let me make it up to you for your birthday.” “Leo is timid. He’d be scared if he knew who I really was. If you help me keep this secret, I’ll honor our engagement. We can get married next month, just like we planned.” I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded the plane.

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Gerston Croft, heir to a billion-dollar fortune, was exposed as an impostor. Now broke and disgraced, he was trying to end his life in a grimy basement. I clutched our old sugar daddy agreement, ready to tear it up and run—until a stream of text flashed before my eyes like a live chat: [Of course the side-chick’s a gold digger. Her leaving just makes way for the real heroine.] [After she leaves, she gets tortured to death by a sadistic new benefactor. If only she knew in six months the male lead will not only rebuild his empire but surpass the Crofts, becoming the youngest self-made billionaire. The irony would kill her again.] My hand shook; I tore the contract in two. I rushed into the bathroom. There he was, wrist bleeding. I grabbed his arm, sobbing without dignity. “Don’t die! Who’ll take care of me? I… I want to renew our contract!” His hollow eyes fell on the torn paper. “Really?” he whispered. 1 “You were only ever with me for the money,” he said, his voice flat. “And now you see the truth.” His eyes roamed the dank, grimy basement, a place of shadows and damp concrete. His lips, once a confident crimson, were now pale and bloodless. I pressed my hands against the cut on his wrist, but the blood still dripped, staining the floor a dark, ugly red. “I’ve been cast out by the Crofts. I’m hiding in this hellhole, a man who can’t even support himself, let alone you. So just go. I don’t blame you.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had been with Gerston Croft for eight years. To the world, he was a polished, gentle heir. Only I knew the truth: he was a viper in a cashmere coat, vengeful to the core. His words were casual, forgiving, but the hand he kept hidden behind his back was clenched so tight the knuckles were white. I didn’t know if I could trust the bizarre text feed in front of my eyes, but my gut screamed at me to trust my instinct for survival. I couldn’t leave. If I did, I wouldn’t have to wait for some future sadist to kill me. Gerston would do it himself, slowly and creatively. I lunged forward, pressing my lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing me back with a desperate hunger that left me breathless. When I finally pushed him away, gasping for air, I snatched the torn contract from the floor. As he watched in stunned silence, I ripped the pieces into tiny shreds. I cupped his face in my hands, my voice earnest. “Gerston, I don’t want to be your mistress anymore.” A flicker of cold, murderous intent crossed his eyes. The comments in my vision sneered. [Wow, thought for a second she’d had a change of heart. Turns out she’s just here to twist the knife. Just you wait. When her new life turns into a nightmare, she’ll come crawling back, and the male lead won’t even give her the time of day.] [As soon as she’s gone, the heroine will burst in and save him. And so begins his epic comeback story. Cue the epic music.] I ignored the filth, my voice soft but threaded with a tension I couldn’t hide. “I know this might not be the right time, but… for the first time, I feel like we’re equals. So, Gerston Croft… will you be my boyfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. Before he could answer, the world went black. The last thing I saw was a single line of text. [Too late to change your mind. Defy the script, and you’re the one who pays the price.] A surge of anger rose in me. Follow the script? The script wanted me dead. To hell with that. In the darkness, a fire seemed to lick at my consciousness, burning me from the inside out. I ran and ran until, finally, my eyes flew open. I shot upright in a hospital bed, drenched in a cold sweat. A sharp pain radiated from my core. A groan escaped my lips. A cool hand touched my forehead, and I saw Gerston leaning over me, his face etched with fear. “Luna? Are you okay?” The pain was a constant torment. In the eight years I’d been with him, he had spoiled me rotten, shielding me from any hint of harm. I’d grown soft. The pain was too much. I started to cry. “It hurts. It hurts so much.” He stood up, panicked, and ran to find a doctor. The doctor who came back shot me an annoyed look. “If you can’t pay for the tests, you need to be discharged. You’re taking up a bed. What do you want me to do? No money, no treatment.” Gerston’s voice was a low growl. “Give her the best of everything. I have…” His voice trailed off. His proud shoulders, always so straight, slumped in defeat. He couldn’t meet my eyes. The doctor sneered. “You should probably go. You’ve got nothing left to pawn.” That’s when I noticed the silver ring he always wore was gone from his finger. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled out of bed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the door, babbling nonsense to comfort him. “Honestly, it doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with you. You’re my painkiller, Gerston. You can’t get rid of me now.” A single, hot tear splashed onto our joined hands. Gerston’s voice was raw when he answered. “Okay.” A small smile touched my lips. I wasn’t lying. 2 [The male lead chose to take the side character to the hospital, so he missed his first meeting with the heroine. The plot is already off the rails.] [The plot’s punishment seems weaker, too. She shouldn’t even be able to walk right now. If she’d defied the original script this much, she’d be in a world of unimaginable pain.] [Ngl, I’m kinda starting to ship them. The fallen tycoon and his loyal canary. You don’t see that every day.] I hid the glint in my eyes, piecing together a survival plan from the fragments of information. Defying the plot brought punishment, but if Gerston chose me, consistently and without hesitation, it could derail the script. The punishment would weaken… or maybe even disappear. It all hinged on his love. I turned to look at the man who was once the prince of the city, now trailing behind me, holding my hand as if I were made of glass. I smiled. “So, you’re my boyfriend now. That means you’re going to work hard and get us back to the lifestyle we’re used to, right?” “I will,” he said, his voice firm with promise. [Is it just me, or did the male lead just go from sugar daddy to the side character’s puppy?] [Just wait until he starts working. The world will humiliate him, and that’s when the heroine will swoop in to save him. Their bond will be forged in fire. That’s the main event.] [So they missed their first meeting. Big deal. They’re fated. Side-chick should start looking for her next meal ticket now.] I didn’t stop Gerston from looking for work. The pain was a constant, gnawing presence, and sleep was my only escape. He came home exhausted every day, the knees of his once-immaculate suits covered in dust. I knew from the comments that he’d gone to an old friend from his circle, a guy named Chad. Chad despised Gerston for being an impostor but couldn’t bear to lose his genius for business. So, he took his resentment out in petty, cruel ways. The proud man I knew was now kneeling to polish another man’s shoes. He was hauling fifty-pound water coolers up twenty-six flights of stairs, replacing them in every office. He was standing for three hours in the breakroom, making coffee for the entire company. Chad even made him clean the bathrooms. I’d smelled the faint, sharp scent of bleach on him more than once. But despite it all, the first thing I saw when he came home was his smile. He’d put down the groceries he’d bought and immediately wrap me in his arms. “Feeling any better today?” I’d blink myself awake and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Much better, now that you’re holding me.” “I’m hungry.” Gerston would head to the kitchen, a natural in front of the stove now. I’d prop my head on my hand and enjoy the meltdown in the comments. [This is the same man who would take three showers if he smelled cooking oil on him. Now he’s a damn short-order cook for this girl.] [All she has to do is give him one compliment and he’s over the moon. And her whole ‘you’re my painkiller’ act is so cringe, it gives me goosebumps.] I rolled over in bed. Oh, it gets better. After dinner, he would do my laundry, clean the apartment, and then give me a full-body massage. Only after I was asleep would he start on the work he’d brought home. As long as he was here, my smallest discomfort was a national emergency. Like right now. He was kneeling by the bed, still in his apron. “Was that uncomfortable? Do you need me to help you turn over?” I put on my sweetest voice. “I need my boyfriend to kiss me.” He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. His hands, the same ones that signed billion-dollar deals, were now gently massaging my temples. The gnawing pain inside me subsided, and I closed my eyes, content. “A little lower. My shoulders.” A shrill ringtone cut through the quiet. Gerston paused before answering the phone. His brow furrowed. “There’s a problem at work, Luna,” he said, his voice full of apology. “I have to go out. Just finish dinner and leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I get back.” I watched him go. The comments exploded. [Chad’s been waiting for this. It’s not about work; it’s a setup. He’s going to break Gerston’s pride, assault him… but the heroine is on her way to save him! YES! My ship is about to sail!] [After tonight, the side-chick is officially out of the picture. Can’t wait to see the back of her whiny, manipulative ass.] 3 A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. I forced myself out of bed, ignoring the screaming pain, and chased after Gerston, determined to intercept his and the heroine’s fated night. Following the directions from the comments, I found the nightclub and slipped past the bouncer. The pounding music amplified my pain, but I pushed through the crowd toward the chaotic center of the dance floor. And then I saw him. Gerston, on the ground, being stomped on. Chad was grinding his heel into Gerston’s face, pinning him to the floor. The ground was littered with broken glass, the shards digging into Gerston’s skin. Blood and spilled liquor mixed into a sickeningly sweet miasma that made my stomach churn. “Still think you’re a prince?” Chad sneered. “You’re a fake. A nobody. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be begging on the streets right now.” “All I asked was for you to strip for us. You were willing to kneel and polish my shoes. Why the sudden high horse?” Chad’s face was twisted into a lecherous grin. He was known for being into both men and women, and tonight, he’d set his sights on Gerston. “You look tired. Just play nice, let me have some fun, and I can give you all the money and power you want.” Gerston’s chest heaved. He stared up at Chad with pure hatred. “Spit.” He spat a mouthful of blood onto Chad’s face, earning him a vicious volley of kicks. Chad furiously wiped his face. “Break his arms and legs!” he roared. “Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling! Let’s see how long he lasts without food or water!” A bodyguard lifted a bar stool high and brought it crashing down. Gerston grunted, swallowing the scream that rose in his throat. My vision went red. Forgetting everything about the plot, about my own safety, I grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table and charged into the circle, swinging it wildly. “Let us go!” I shrieked, my voice trembling. “Or none of us are walking out of here alive!” My crazed state made Chad take a step back. Then, a slow, dawning smile spread across his face. “Well, well. If it isn’t Gerston’s little canary, Luna. I’m surprised you’re still with him now that he’s broke. A loyal little whore, aren’t you?” His eyes raked over me. “I’ve had men, I’ve had women, but I’ve never had a matching set. This should be fun.” “Come be my girl. I’ll give you a lot more than he ever could.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Gerston, lying broken on the floor, exploded with a primal rage. He snatched the knife from my hand and lunged, plunging it deep into Chad’s eye socket. “You don’t touch her!” But he was outnumbered. Bodyguards swarmed him, pinning him down, their fists and feet raining blows on him. Chad writhed on the floor, screaming. “Get a doctor! Someone get me a doctor! And skin that bastard alive! I want him to beg for death!” I tried to shield Gerston with my own body but was kicked away, sent flying into a table. I coughed, a spray of blood leaving my lips. The fists continued to pound into Gerston, but it was as if he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were locked on me, on the blood on my lips. He struggled violently against his attackers. His eyes were blazing red. Run, he mouthed. [I knew this part was coming, but it’s still hard to watch. This incident leaves a permanent scar on him. Only the heroine’s love can heal him.] [This is Chad, the same guy who tortures Luna to death in the original plot. I wish I could jump through the screen and kill him myself.] That comment hit me like a physical blow. Rage and a desperate will to live flooded my senses. Why should I die at the hands of scum like this? Why should he get to destroy Gerston? I grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass from the floor and scrambled toward the now-unprotected Chad. As he roared in fury, I drove the shard deep into his neck. A hot spray of blood showered over me. Suddenly, a sharp, feminine voice cut through the chaos. “Stop! If anyone lays another hand on Gerston Croft, I will make them pay.” The world exploded in a flash of light. The comments went wild. [They’ve met! The male lead and the heroine have finally met! The plot is back on track!] An all-consuming pain washed over me, stealing the last of my strength. As my body went limp, I forced my head to turn, to look at Gerston one last time. And I saw it. A flicker of pure, unadulterated awe in his eyes as he looked at his savior.

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My CEO wife threw a welcome-home party for her one true love. While I was gone, he tried to take my drunk wife to a hotel room. But I cut him off first. That night, through a mix of sweet-talking and sheer persistence, I ended up sleeping with the wife who’d been saving herself for him. The next morning, she was furious, shoving divorce papers in my face. “Cole, just pretend last night never happened.” “If you don’t sign these, I’ll make you regret it.” I glanced at the settlement: a cool fifty million dollars. I signed my name so fast the pen smoked. Are you kidding me? I’m just a guy who got transmigrated into this novel. Let someone else play the part of the tragic, pining husband. I got the girl, I got the money. Time to disappear. 1 I’ve been transmigrated. And I’ve landed on the exact day my CEO wife, Stella, is throwing a lavish welcome-home party for the man she actually loves. I checked the time. This was bad. If I was a minute later, they’d be in a hotel room, and I’m not the kind of guy who gets cheated on. I grabbed my jacket and rushed out, bringing a couple of my bodyguards just in case. Following the script of the novel, I drove straight to the hotel. As soon as I walked into the lobby, I saw her. Stella was passed out on one of the plush sofas, completely oblivious. Just then, the male lead—the one and only Leo—walked over from the front desk, a key card in his hand. “Stella, you’re drunk. Let’s get you up to a room to rest…” He reached down to pick her up. My face was a thundercloud as I shoved him back. “Who the hell are you, trying to take my wife to a hotel room?” The sudden push sent Leo stumbling. He steadied himself, a flash of shock in his eyes that quickly turned to anger. “You must be Cole,” he sneered. “If I hadn’t gone abroad, do you really think Stella would have married you? You’re just my replacement.” A smug, condescending smirk spread across his face. “Oh, and by the way, Stella told me everything. Three years of marriage, and she’s kept herself pure for me. It must be pathetic, being her husband.” I didn’t have time for his trash talk. I gestured for my bodyguards to get Stella into the car. “What do you think you’re doing? Put her down!” Leo shouted, lunging forward to stop them. I stepped in his way, my eyes like ice. “Leo, I’ll say this one last time: Stella is my wife. If you keep this up, I have no problem plastering your face all over the internet. The world can see the ‘brilliant young talent’ fresh from overseas is just a homewrecker in a hurry.” I leaned in closer. “Think about it. Can you really handle the wrath of both the Sullivan and the Croft families?” My words hit him like a slap. Leo was just an illegitimate son of the Croft family. Stella’s grandfather, the Sullivan family patriarch, had never approved of him, which was why he’d been shipped abroad in the first place. If he forced this and I made it public, the old man’s fury would be apocalyptic. It was a fire Leo couldn’t afford to play with. He saw the cold resolve in my eyes and knew I wasn’t bluffing. He stood frozen, his face a mask of impotent rage, and could only watch as my men carried Stella away. As I left, I shot him a final, triumphant smirk. It nearly made his head explode. In the back of the car, with Stella’s soft form nestled against me and the faint, sweet scent of her perfume in the air, my heart began to race. She really was stunning. Her body was soft and pliant, her skin like porcelain, her curves impossibly perfect. More breathtaking than any celebrity. And that bastard Leo almost had her. 2 Back home, after a quick shower, I slid into bed next to Stella. In the original novel, the two of them always slept in separate rooms. Leaving a wife with a body like this to sleep alone? The original Cole was an absolute fool. I silently cursed his name a hundred times. With zero guilt, I wrapped my arm around her slender waist. The moment my hand started to wander, her small, soft hand clamped down on mine. A blush crept up her cheeks. “Don’t,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “I’m not… divorced yet…” Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw it was me, the haze of sleep vanished, replaced by a glacial cold. “What are you doing here?” I froze my hand but didn’t remove it, my tone lazy. “I’m your husband. Who else would it be? Were you hoping for someone else?” That shut her up. A second later, she started struggling, trying to push me away. But she was weak from the alcohol, her efforts futile. All she could do was glare at me. “Cole, let go of me! Who said you could sleep in my bed? Get out!” I chuckled and pulled her closer. “We’re married. Isn’t sharing a bed what couples do?” “You’re shameless!” she seethed, her chest heaving. She looked like she wanted to bite me. I sighed dramatically in her ear, my voice laced with sorrow. “Stella, you’re the one who wants the divorce, right? For three years, I’ve served you without a single complaint.” “I made you breakfast every morning.” “Last year, when you were sick in the hospital for a week, I stayed by your side for seven days and seven nights, barely sleeping a wink.” “Every time you came home drunk from a business dinner, who was it that made you soup to sober you up?” “You said you wanted to stay faithful to your first love, and have I ever touched a single hair on your head in three years?” As I spoke, I worked up a tear in my eye. “All these years, I’ve taken care of you, given you everything. Even if there was no love, there was effort. All I’m asking for is one night, just holding you. Is that too much?” Her tense body gradually softened. A rare flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated financially.” I pretended to make a great, painful decision. “Just promise me this one night,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me just hold you. And tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll sign the divorce papers.” She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had brought up divorce dozens of times, and I had always refused, adamant. She never pushed too hard, afraid her grandfather would find out. Now, here I was, offering it up myself. She couldn’t believe it was real. “You’ll really sign?” 3 My eyes filled with a deep, heartbreaking reluctance. My voice was heavy with unspoken sadness. “Stella, everyone says I’m your doormat. They all know that you mean more to me than my own life. And it’s because I love you that I’m choosing to let you go. I want you to be happy…” Her heart melted. Images of the past three years flashed through her mind—countless moments of me taking care of her, quietly, steadfastly. The guilt intensified. But she still looked at me, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Just holding me? That’s it?” With a shattered expression, I nodded fiercely and raised my right hand. “I swear.” She watched me, her big, beautiful eyes searching my face. All she saw was sincerity. “You’d better behave, Cole.” After a few more minutes of my soft, pleading words, she finally let her guard down completely. Heh. Once a woman’s heart softens, it’s game over. The night was deep, the room was quiet. Two bodies, pressed close together. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel the heat rising from her skin, her breathing growing shallow and quick. She’d already had a lot to drink, and the proximity was doing the rest. One thing led to another. And what should and shouldn’t happen… happened. It was a wild night that didn’t end until the sun began to rise. I was woken up by a phone ringing. Not mine. Stella’s. She must have been exhausted. It was her first time, after all, and she was sleeping like the dead. I glanced at the caller ID. Leo. My annoyance spiked. I just turned her phone off. I was getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang, its timing impeccable. I opened the door, a towel wrapped around my waist, and found Leo standing on the doorstep, his face dark as a storm cloud. I couldn’t help but smile. “Mr. Croft. To what do I owe the pleasure this early in the morning?” 4 His eyes immediately locked onto the fresh scratch marks covering my chest and shoulders. “You slept together,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Heh. We’re a legally married couple. Is that a problem? But I played dumb. “No, of course not. You’re imagining things. Stella has been saving herself for you. She would never… you’ve misunderstood.” The money wasn’t in my account yet. I couldn’t admit anything. If I pissed Stella off now, she might back out of the settlement, and I’d be left with nothing. Leo’s eyes bored into me, his face turning a sickly shade of green. “Misunderstood? Do you think I’m blind, Cole? What about those scratches?” I feigned a frown. “My cat,” I said, my voice laced with impatience. “Is that a problem? And by what right are you questioning me, Mr. Croft? In case you’ve forgotten, until these papers are finalized, I am Stella’s husband.” His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to control his rage. “Move. I want to see Stella.” I blocked the doorway, a playful smirk on my face. “She had a lot to drink last night. She’s still sleeping. If you try to force your way in here, and the old man finds out… I imagine he’ll be paying your family a visit to have a little chat about manners.” Just as I expected, the mention of Stella’s grandfather deflated him instantly. He shot me one last venomous glare, knowing he was beaten. “You just wait,” he spat, before turning and storming off. When I got back to the bedroom, Stella was already awake. Her eyes were burning with fury. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately switched into character, my face a mask of pitiful longing. “Stella, you’re awake? Stella, I can’t live without you. Can we not get a divorce? Please? What would I do without you?” She was livid. Last night, I had promised to just hold her, and instead, I had… well. And now I was backing out of the deal? Did I think she was a pushover? 5 But then her eyes met my pleading, mournful gaze, and her resolve wavered. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer than I expected. “Cole, I kept my end of the bargain. Don’t try to pull anything.” She slapped a document on the bedside table. A divorce agreement. “If you don’t sign this, I will make your life a living hell.” My eyes went wide as I scanned the asset division clause. Fifty. Million. Dollars. Before I was transmigrated, I was just a corporate drone, crushed by the daily grind. The original Cole’s family had a business, sure, but it was nothing compared to the Sullivan empire. Besides, he had an older brother. He was never the heir. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spent three years of his marriage as a house husband. This wasn’t a divorce agreement. It was a winning lottery ticket. Seeing me hesitate, Stella’s face darkened. She thought I was going to renege on the deal. “Cole, do not test my patience…” Before she could finish, I had scrawled my signature and handed it back. “When does the money hit my account?” Stella was clearly taken aback, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re really agreeing to this?” Heh. What’s that supposed to mean? I signed it. Is she going to back out now? But this was the critical moment. I couldn’t look too eager. I grabbed her soft hand, my face the picture of heartbreak. “Stella, you know I can’t live without you. But… I respect your choice.” She snatched her hand back, a visible wave of relief washing over her. She turned and made a call to her assistant. A few moments later, my phone pinged with a bank notification. I stared at the long line of zeros and almost burst out laughing. Overcome with joy, I pulled her in and kissed her on the cheek. The memory of last night must have resurfaced, because her face flushed with anger and she shoved me away. “Get out!” she screamed. “I don’t want to see you ever again!” Faced with her murderous glare, I didn’t need to be told twice. I beat a hasty retreat. After I left, Stella sat on the sofa in a daze. The events of the past twenty-four hours were still a blur. Suddenly, she realized that something about me had changed. The old Cole would never have been so bold, so shameless. He would never have done… any of that. She had thought signing the papers would make her happy, ecstatic even. But now, all she felt was a strange, hollow emptiness in her chest, as if she had lost something vital.

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